


An American Haunting

by loserchic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mentions of Suicide, Nobody Dies, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Past Relationship(s), Political AU, Senator Derek, The View, major angst, mentions of past death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-05-19 06:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 48,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserchic/pseuds/loserchic
Summary: Five years ago in 2013, Stiles was a brilliant junior in university on a full academic scholarship, already mated and newly engaged to Derek Hale, the wealthy heir to one of America's most prominent political dynasties. Fast-forward to 2019 and Stiles is now working a minimum wage job, studying at night, still physically scarred years after Derek repudiated him legally, leaving him humiliated. Since breaking up with Stiles, Derek has turned his back on his family, winning a contentious senatorial race by shockingly declaring his allegiance to the opposition party and openly supporting their controversial Presidential candidate, the omega-disparaging billionaire, Mason Dorf. Now both Dorf and Derek are up for re-election. Derek's sister Laura, a famous political pundit, becomes the chief campaign strategist for Derek's opponent, a liberal beta named Jared Keane. Derek is shocked to discover Laura has hired Stiles as a researcher for Keane's campaign, and even more shocked to discover Stiles is now personally involved with his political rival. Soon the secrets from Stiles' past threaten to rock the election as Derek finds himself haunted by a relationship that never really died and the truth nobody ever knew.





	1. Five Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Behind An American Haunting
> 
> This story came to me after a significant change in my personal life coincided with the aftermath of the 2016 Presidential election. Those combined events had me thinking about how no matter how much the world wants us to divide people cleanly into stark binary categories like good and bad, right and wrong, and conservative and liberal-- the truth of the matter is when real people are involved, there are many shades of grey. This combined with an observation from my personal life (that in the autopsy of a relationship the only ones who really know the cause of death are the two people involved) led to the creation of this story. It's taken me a few hard years to get back to a place where I've had time to try put these thoughts on paper. For those of you who actually know the American political system well, just know I'm going to play fast and loose with the timelines of the 2016 and 2020 election cycles as well as a few other things like term limits. Whatever. It's fanfiction. Above all this is a story about loss: the loss of your first love, the loss of innocence, and the loss of childhood when you have to start making adult decisions all alone for the first time. I want to thank my readers for once again allowing me to let them see a small piece of my world. This one is for the poly-sci majors out there. (There's got to be a few of you. I wasn't one, but I knew a lot of you.)

May 8th, 2019  
The Kingsley-Hall Benefit Dinner  
Rubard's Steakhouse, Beacon Hills California

 

“Jared fucking Keane.” Derek slams the door to the coatroom shut behind him, effectively closing Stiles in. It's the two of them, alone. The moment he's dreaded since first seeing Stiles from afar in Laura's office three weeks ago. They may be in public. They may be at a charity event, but this, this cannot stand. He stares at the omega, speaking his first words to his ex-mate for the first time in five years.

“Mason fucking Dorf,” Stiles answers back, turning to face Derek, looking up at the alpha imperiously.

“Don’t change the subject!” Derek says, his eyes flashing. “I know what this is about. I know why you’re here. I know why Laura hauled you out from wherever you came from, you don’t think I can’t see what is going?”

“And what do you think is going on?” Stiles folds his arms, looking almost bored. Infuriating Derek as only Stiles can.

“I’m not taking the fall, Stiles.” Derek snarls. “Not this time.”

“You repudiated me.” Stiles raises one eyebrow.

“And I took the loss—”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Now you even buy your own bullshit.” Stiles says, shaking his head, “Unbelievable.”

“What did you say?” Derek can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

“I said, I hate you,” Stiles says this louder, the familiar edge back in his voice.

“Well, I should hate you.” Derek slams his fist against the door, nearly causing the heavy oak to splinter.

“As if you don’t.” Stiles spits this.

“Jared fucking Keane.” Derek shakes his head. “I bet my sister was only too happy to deliver you like a wrapped Christmas gift to him. I bet he shit his pants when she told him she can get my ex--”

“Oh no Derek, they couldn’t possibly have hired me because I’m a decent researcher.” Stiles snarls this.

“Now who is buying his own bullshit?” Derek shouts, “They hired you because you’re a skeleton in my closet and they think they can parade the poor repudiated omega in front of the liberal media and assassinate my character.”

“Even if that was the plan, that wouldn’t work and if you have half a working brain, you’d know that already. I’m just another repudiated omega, Derek. It’s always the omega’s fault. I got myself repudiated. It’s your story over mine. Who’d believe me?” Stiles folds his arms, the tauntingly bored expression back on the omega’s face.

“My sister apparently. My mother. My little sister. All of our fucking friends.”

“Don’t give me that.”

“What?”

“Your family’s beef with you has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Dorf. Don’t fucking lay this at my feet.” Stiles shakes his head in disgust. “We both know the truth.”

“And I suppose that’s what you’ve told him?”

“What?”

“Keane.” Derek spits, feeling his blood racing just beneath his skin, seeing the beta’s face as he looked at Stiles in front of the press. “I’m sure you told him the truth, Stiles.”

Stiles stares at Derek for a moment, his face infuriatingly impossible to read. “Everything he knows about…” the omega pauses, obviously choosing his words, “about the past is a matter of public record.”

“You think so?” Derek snarls, leaning over, closer to the omega now, barely even realizing how close he’s getting to Stiles.

“Look,” Stiles’ face is starting to flush in anger now. “Keane isn’t going to make this election about us. I told you—it’s a losing strategy and it’s not why I’m here.”

“You can’t be this stupid,” Derek says. “In fact--I know you’re not. Deny it to my face all you want, Stiles. Fuck. Deny it to yourself, but if you don’t think he doesn’t plan on parading you in front of the media— my ex? He’s going to make it seem like he took you from me. He- a beta, took my omega from me. He’s deliberately calling my alpha-ness into question. And there are idiots out there who will believe him. As if that fucking pedestrian-ass, middle-class-suck-up beta could ever come close to a real alpha-“

Stiles’ cold, humorless laugh cuts Derek’s growling tirade off. “That’s what you’re afraid of? I told you, Derek, this is not about me. If he made it about me, he’d lose. All you’d have to do is tell your base he’s taken your leftovers and that makes him half the man you are. Those chauvinistic idiots who vote for you would eat that shit up. Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” Stiles shakes his head. “You. Repudiated. Me. Remember? That’s all they need to hear.”

Derek stares at the omega for a moment before shaking his head and growling, “You look fucking terrible. What does he have you doing? Up all night working? Does he even know how unhealthy that is for an omega?”

“He’s a beta,” Stiles scoffs. “He’s not in charge of when I sleep. Nobody is.” Stiles nods, almost reassuring himself. “And nobody should be.”

“Do you even know how you smell, right now?” Derek snarls bitterly. He leans forward, inhaling that hateful, alien new scent of Stiles’. “Iron. Lead. The barest hint of bile.” He leans in a mere breath away from the omega’s ear. “You think I don’t know what that means? You think I don’t remember.” Against his will, Derek hears his voice catch. “How could he? If he gave a fuck about you, how could he let you-“

Stiles looks up at Derek and his eyes are steely now. “It’s not his choice. I’m not his.”

“Does he know?” Derek doesn’t look away despite the hostility in the omega’s eyes. “How could he let you if he knew-“ He reaches out and cups his hand to Stiles’ neck, feeling the omega’s thread pulse under his fingers. The omega’s skin feels soft and clammy under his touch as if it’s sickening for something. He leans down and whispers, his voice suddenly thick. “You smell so tired, Stiles. I should put you on your knees right now.”

Immediately the omega jerks back as if he’s been burned. “Are we done here?” He isn’t looking at Derek, but his face is insolent and sullen all of a sudden.

“No.” Derek’s voice is solid. He reaches out and grasps the omega’s forearm.

“Let me go.” Stiles’ voice is cold and rigid as ice now.

“Stiles-“

“If you know what’s good for you, you will let me go-“ Stiles’ seethes.

“What if I don’t fucking care-“ Derek tries to pull the omega closer, all of a sudden furious again.

“Derek-“ Stiles’ voice has suddenly changed. It’s somehow infinitely softer now, almost sad, as if all of his anger has suddenly evaporated, leaving the omega exhausted. “If you know what’s good for _me_ you will let me go.”

“This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.” Derek still isn’t letting go.

“Yes. It is.” Stiles says.

“We’re not done.” Derek insists.

“Have you let yourself go that far, Derek?” Stiles shakes his head at Derek’s uncomprehending look. “Talk about a real alpha.” Stile snorts his anger suddenly back, rolling his eyes in over-exaggerated mockery, angry and looking to wound.

“Give me one fucking reason I should let you walk out that door, Stiles.”

“Lydia is standing right outside listening to every word.” Stiles shakes his head in disgust, turning to open the coat room door. “You didn’t even notice.”

Derek is right on Stiles heels as the omega shoulders the door open and he and Stiles nearly trip into Lydia as they fall into the hallway. Lydia has obviously been standing entirely too close to the coatroom door.

Immediately the tiny alpha bares her blinding white teeth at Derek, yanking Stiles behind her protectively.

“You,” She says to Stiles, not breaking her death glare with Derek, “Jared’s car is around front. He’s waiting for you.”

The omega turns without a second look towards Derek and heads towards the door to the restaurant and the press which is doubtlessly waiting for them beyond it.

The moment the other alpha senses Stiles is out of earshot she grabs Derek by the lapels and snarls in his face, “You come near him again, and I promise you’ll regret it.”

Derek pushes the other alpha off roughly. “Finally, something we can both agree on.”


	2. Six Years Ago

March 10th, 2013  
Laura and Kent Hale’s estate  
Beacon Hills, California

_“What’s dead in the ground doesn’t always remain so…”_

Derek can just make out the first line of Lydia’s article in the Beacon Hills Times newspaper Stiles has tucked under his arm as the omega passes, oblivious to alpha, in front of the modern glass doors of Laura’s decadent pool house. A beta, an omega, or even most alphas would never be able to read the tiny print, but Derek is Stiles’ alpha and he finds his senses heightened, exacerbated by the mere presence of the omega. With Stiles every color is stark, every noise a gunshot to Derek’s sensitive ears, every movement exact, every foreign scent a potential threat. It’s been that way for a while now. It’s been that way since they met.

Derek is peering around the expensive and tasteful taupe blinds Laura has installed in her guest house, watching Stiles silently and motionless as a predator in winter. He knows this omega by hand and by heart. He’s spent much of the past two years cataloguing and re-cataloguing every hallowed inch of this omega’s body with first his eyes, and then his hands, and then, finally, his lips and his tongue. Even after all this time, Derek feels a slight thrill as he watches the omega set down the newspaper by the edge of the pool and casually pulls off his white Henley, revealing a perfect expanse of skin to Derek’s sharpened vision. The alpha tips his head up ever so slightly to catch the omega’s raw honey scent. The perfect, one-of-a-kind aroma floods Derek’s mouth and nose and lungs, radiating off Stiles’ newly exposed skin. The scent is heady and potent and the closest thing to an addiction Derek has ever had. Stiles is not yet twenty and there has been no other alpha before Derek, even casually. Derek prizes Stiles’ fresh, raw scent above anything else. Within a week of meeting the omega Derek had all but begged Stiles to never drink caffeine, to stay away from alcohol or tobacco, or anything else that could contaminate an omega’s scent, staining his natural perfume violently with chemical aftertaste. Stiles had laughed at the request, but the omega also hadn’t had coffee or alcohol since. He’d never even tried to smoke as far as Derek knew.

It’s dark out, the eerie translucent green lights from Laura’s pool offer the only light. Derek smiles, feeling his mouth water slightly, the razor edge of his teeth just sharpening by mere centimeters as he watches his omega bend down and pull off the new Gucci loafers Derek bought him earlier that week. Stiles doesn’t have a head for fashion, doesn’t have a taste for it either. All Derek knows as he watches Stiles’ slender fingers unzip the new charcoal Tom Ford slacks Derek had purchased for him earlier that month during a separate shopping trip, his omega is beautiful, and when Derek sees beautiful things, he can’t help but think of Stiles.

Fully bare now except for a pair of Alexander McQueen briefs, Derek’s eye suddenly catches on Stiles’ shoulder blades, the shadows of them disturbingly stark in the light from the pool. Derek feels a jolt of alarm course through his body like an electrical current, an involuntary reaction to this, the most innocent of images. The light isn’t good, but he could swear for a moment, the milky expanse of skin that makes up Stiles shapely back looked slightly translucent for a moment, almost a pale green. For one striking moment that feels like insanity, Derek thinks Stiles’ skin looks dead. Like the skin of a corpse. Derek blinks and the effect is gone. The light isn’t good. Of course, Stiles’ skin is its usual perfect ivory. It’s late and Derek is seeing things. Still, Derek silently opens door to the pool house, padding closer, barefooted, to get a better look at what is his.  
Stiles turns around and the noise and-- instantly reading Derek’s obvious intense scrutiny-- flushes a little and immediately dives into the pool, but not before Derek’s keen alpha eyes take in his omega’s bare chest.

Stiles surfaces, his hair sticking up wildly in the water, and grins at Derek. Derek wants to smile back, but something is still pulling on his alpha instincts, something that won’t let him settle.

“Have you lost weight?” He asks finally, feeling his face sag into a slight frown.

Stiles looks at him hard for a moment before sputtering, his omega grin blooming coquettishly across a face as young and beautiful as any magazine cover, “Nah, man.” He says, treading water and looking up at Derek. “I’m getting fat.” He laughs at his own joke.

Derek doesn’t laugh back. Instead, the alpha pulls off his own clothes, article by article, methodically folding them at the edge of the pool before sliding down into the slightly cool depths next Stiles. Stiles barely notices the alpha’s disciplined stripping. He’s back to the edge of the pool now, casually trying to avoid getting the paper wet as he’s reading. Derek swims up behind him, humming slightly. It’s been nearly a year now and he’ll still never get over seeing Stiles’ mating bite. Derek grins wolfishly to himself, happy the omega can’t see the stupid-happy-proud look on his face as he leans down to just skim his lips against the scar. All mated omegas have mating bite scars. Once bitten, the scars will never fade. In most countries, including the US, it’s illegal to get them surgically removed-- even in the case of repudiation.

Yes, mating bite scars are as common as wedding rings, but Stiles’... Stiles’ scar is something. Higher up on the omega’s slender neck than most mating bites, and deeper, Stiles’ scar is instantly obvious and impossible to ignore. Right under the omega’s slender ear, Derek had purposely placed it where even a turtleneck sweater or a scarf couldn’t fully hide the deep, red markings Derek’s teeth had left. He kisses the crimson scar now, laving over the grooved tissue gently, tasting this, the most important symbol of their union with his tongue. Healthy mating scars are always red, appearing almost as bloody, open wounds in direct sunlight. Omegas with dead alphas scars turn white. Repudiated omega’s scars turn black. It’s a common folk saying-- the stronger the bond, the redder the mark. Stiles’ scar is a violent, bloody scarlet.

“Stop that.” Stiles laughs, batting Derek away. “Trying to read.”

“For school?” Derek asks, ignoring Stiles’ fluttery hand and wrapping one enormously strong arm around his omega’s waist.

“Nah.” Stiles says, shifting the paper. “Lydia wrote this. It’s speculation about the primaries.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I thought you were going to stop reading that shit.”

Stiles laughs. “The shit Lydia writes?”

“No,” Derek grins back. “About the election. It stresses you out too much.”

Stiles shift in Derek’s arms, “I mean? Can you blame me? Can you believe this Mason Dorf guy?” Stiles shakes his head, “Un-fucking-believable. Did you hear what he said about Mexicans the other day?”

“Yes,” Derek says, nuzzling Stiles.

“And that doesn’t drive you crazy?” Stiles asks. “I mean, it’s got to drive your mom crazy.”

“Oh, I’m sure it does.” Derek laughs. “But she’s retired now. I mean, she hasn’t been governor for like three years. I think she tries to turn all this shit off now. He’s just another politician. Or worse, he’s another would-be-celebrity turned politician. He’s just pretending to run because he wants to hike up the ratings for his fucking reality show. I don’t know why you’re even paying attention to Dorf. That’s what he wants.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know. He’s gaining traction for the primaries. Can you believe that? A few years ago this guy was a registered member of the Consensus Liberation Party, now he says he'd run as a Traditionalists for Thriving Families Party candidate.”

“Stiles, trust me.” Derek laughs. “I’ve been around politicians my whole life. He won’t make it out of the primaries. One of the establishment guys will pick him off soon enough.”

“They can’t get their heads out of their asses.” Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Well, how is that different than usual.” He kisses Stiles’ cheek. “You don’t have to worry about him ever being President. This is a stunt. Now come on, put that rag down.” He pulls Stiles up, grabbing him around the waist.

“Why should I?” Stiles laughs.

“Because my sister will kill me if I fuck you in her pool.” Derek grins.


	3. Let the Games Begin

January 21st, 2019  
L & L Consulting Headquarters  
Beacon Hills, California

“Scott, come in!” Laura opens the impressive frosted glass door to her executive office, ushering Scott McCall in, the black tips of her Valentino Rockstud heels clashing exuberantly with Scott’s plum-colored scrubs. She leans up to give the beta a quick hug, before taking his forearm and settling him in a cream-colored chair in front of her expansive chrome desk. With Scott seated the statuesque eldest Hale child seems to loom over him in a black Stella McCartney jumpsuit. She smiles, baring a blinding set of white veneers. Behind her, leaning slightly against the enormous window stands Lydia Martin, as polished and poised as Scott remembers her in an ivory Givenchy suit. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Lydia says as Laura takes a seat behind her desk. “Do you want something? Water? A glass of wine, perhaps?” 

“No,” Scott clears his throat, feeling a little uncomfortable in this austerely immaculate office in his work scrubs. “I’m good, thanks.” 

“I have to say,” Laura says, brushing her long black bob back, “I’m surprised to see you. It’s been what? Five years? Happy, but surprised. How is your mom? I heard you’re a nurse now.” 

“Mom’s good.” Scott nods, unsure of which woman to look at. “She’s the head of nursing at Beacon Hills General now. Yeah, I work there too. It’s kind of weird having my mom as my boss’s boss, but—you know, it’s all good.” 

“That’s fantastic.” Laura smiles radiantly again. “It’s good to see you, Scott.” She pauses, glancing up slightly at Lydia. “But something tells me this isn’t a social call.” 

“Well,” Scott clears his throat. “No, it’s not.” 

“I see.” Laura says, shifting slightly. “How can I help you?” 

“It’s, uh…” the beta looks unsure of how to start at first. “It’s Stiles, actually.”

Laura’s eyebrows shoot up so fast they almost disappear into her hairline. “What about Stiles?” The alpha asks, her tone changing completely. “Is he okay?” 

“Well, yeah—I mean,” Scott looks hesitant. “Look, I know this is awkward, but… the guy’s like a brother to me.” 

Laura purses her lips ever so slightly. “I would say I have more of a right to say that than you.” 

Scott blinks, looking up at her in surprise. 

“Derek repudiated Stiles.” Laura says, plunging without hesitancy or fanfare into the unspoken topic on all their minds. “Derek. Not me. Not my mother. Not anyone from my family. And I have made my thoughts on that matter clear and on the record multiple times. I loved him like a brother while he was mated to Derek. I love him now.” 

“Yeah.” Scott nods, a little dumbstruck at her candor.

“Is Stiles okay, Scott?” Lydia asks, her perfect eyebrows arched in concern. 

“He’s back.” Scott says simply. 

“Back?” Laura repeats.

“Yeah.” Scott says. “Back in California, back in school, back here. He transferred to St. Cecilia’s in town—you know, the all-omega university. He’s going fulltime so he can finally finish his degree.” 

“That’s… good.” Lydia offers. Laura remains silent beside her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“The thing is,” Scott continues, “he also insists on working fulltime. He can’t afford to live otherwise. And you know how Stiles is. He’s so self-sufficient. I mean, I think it has something to do with all that time he spent in foster care growing up. He wouldn’t accept help from my mom, even if she could give it, and he’s working for shit pay in retail. It’s killing him, all the back and forth. I can tell. I mean, I know I’m not an alpha or anything, but even I can smell his destress scent constantly. It’s… awful.” 

“Mmm.” Laura makes a non-committal noise. 

“And I thought…” Scott starts again, “Well, I read you and Lydia opened this consulting firm together and you know how smart Stiles is…” He trails off looking a little helpless.

“Stiles is brilliant.” Laura says. “Smartest omega I’ve ever met. I’ve always said so.” 

“Well, yeah.” Scott says, looking more cheerful. “And he’s a journalism major still. I guess I thought maybe if you could give him a job that pays better, he wouldn’t have to work all the time.”

“I see.” Laura says. “And what makes you think Stiles would want to get within ten feet of my family anymore?” 

“Well, I also…” Scott pauses and flushes slightly. “I also read about Derek. That he’s a senator now.”

“You mean how he somehow talked the redneck population into voting him into office by betraying generations of my family’s service in the Consensus Liberation Party and declaring his support for the chauvinist pig, Mason Dorf, thus becoming a pig, himself?” Laura asks coolly. “Yes. I can imagine you read about that.”

“It was in all the papers, really.” Lydia supplies with a snort of derision. 

Scott flushes even more, “Yeah, and I read you haven’t spoken to him in two years.” 

“Well, what do you know?” Laura muses evenly to Lydia. “The media gets it right sometimes.” 

“Laura,” Scott says, leaning over and looking earnestly at the alpha. “Please. You were old friends of Stiles. He’s really not doing so well, and I’m a little scared he can’t keep this up.” Scott swallows. 

“Why did you come to me?” Laura asks. 

Scott shrugs, looking a little lost, “You and Talia were Stiles’ alpha’s dominant alphas—I mean, back when Stiles had an alpha. I know he’d be safe with you.”

Laura sinks back in her chair and takes a breath. She glances up at Lydia and something unspoken passes between the two women.

“We actually just got a new project.” She starts.

“A big project.” Lydia nods.

“Now, this is completely confidential-“Laura says.

“It hasn’t been announced to the press yet.” Lydia supplies. 

Laura stares Scott down and smiles. “How much does Stiles know about Jared Keane?”


	4. April 18th, 2019

Civil War: Sister Against Brother as Unprecedented Change in Party Affiliations Rips an American Political Dynasty Apart

A special report by Washington Post correspondent Amelia Jones

April 17th, 2019 at 5:48 PM

In what is perhaps the most unexpected twist in one of the country’s most-watched senatorial races, Jared Keane, the popular Consensus Liberation Party (hereafter known as the CLP) candidate announced this afternoon he has tagged Laura Hale as his chief campaign strategist. This news is notable for a number of reasons, the most apparent of which is the incumbent against whom Keane is running is none other than Hale’s younger brother, Senator Derek Hale.

Senator Hale made headlines in 2015 when he became the first Traditionalists for Thriving Families Party (hereafter known as the TTF) candidate to be elected as a senator in California in nearly sixty years. The news was particularly notable as, by joining the TTF, Senator Hale broke tradition in one of the most influential modern political families in America. Senator Hale’s mother, Talia Hale, is a former two-term CLP governor of California, who was known as one of the most popular and influential governors of her generation. The CLP goes back even farther in the Hale family tree. Governor Hale’s father was a popular CLP congressman who helped pass the landmark 1973 legislation that allowed omegas to go on hormone suppressants without the consent of their alphas.

Derek’s election rocked headlines for months as the young alpha from one of America’s most famously liberal families declaring himself as a candidate for the TTF. Even more shocking was Derek’s open support of then-presidential-candidate, Mason Dorf, a man Derek’s mother and sister have both repeatedly and publicly denounced. Many doubted Hale would be able to flip California, a notoriously liberal state, but Hale’s charisma, coupled with his straight-forward, no-frills debating style won over the youth vote. Dorf capitalized on Hale’s popularity, coupled with the younger alpha’s centrist appeal and two have made many appearances together since Dorf was elected to office in 2016.

However, in the 2019 election, Hale may have finally met his match in beta CLP candidate, Jared Keane. In many ways Derek Hale and Jared Keane are similar. Both are unusually young for the office they seek, both are handsome and charismatic, and both can connect unusually well with young voters. Hale was educated at Yale, Keane at Harvard. However, that is where the similarities end. The son of two public school teachers, Keane is currently a Harvard Law professor where he is unapologetically outspoken about leftist issues such as mass incarceration, climate change, and omega equality. Where Hale is often blunt and straightforward, an alpha of few words, Keane is known for his soaring populist rhetoric and invigorating stump speeches.

As for Keane, the choice of Laura Hale for chief campaign strategist speaks to the political savvy and penchant for populist spectacle which has made the beta candidate a media darling in the last few months. Laura is a host on the popular daytime talk show, The View, and has been a socialite and subject of tabloid fodder since the strikingly beautiful alpha was a teenager. Her outspoken liberal views often clash with those of conservative host, Kate Argent. Their on-air squabbles have become legendary and were even parodied on SNL. A former actress, Kate Argent is the daughter of famous prosecutor, Gerard Argent, and one of the only TTF-supporting voices in Hollywood. Ironically, Kate has been romantically linked with Laura Hale's Brother, Senator Hale since 2015.

It also seems ironic that the landmark legislation Derek Hale’s grandfather helped pass would become a focal point of his and Mason Dorf’s re-election campaigns. Dorf has been outspoken about repealing the Omega Suppressant Act, and it has become something of a trademark issue for the President.

“Allowing omegas access to hormone suppressants without the consent of their alphas is very dangerous stuff, folks,” The President said while addressing a town hall in Pittsburgh on Wednesday. “These are harmful and dangerous chemicals. The liberals want to ensure alphas can’t protect their omegas, can’t protect their families. This is the disintegration of the American family, folks. It’s irresponsibility disguised as ‘omega liberation.’” The President went on to say, mockingly. “You ever heard of this ‘omega liberation?’ The left thinks omegas need to be liberated from those who love them and want to care for them the most. Disgraceful.”

Access to omega hormone suppressants is one of the most controversial issues in American social consciousness today. Right now, it is legal for doctors to prescribe an omega hormone suppressants without the consent of the omega’s alpha or head of house. In low doses, omega hormone suppressants are said to help combat the anxiety, agoraphobia, and racing thoughts many omegas are prone to. In low doses, the presence of hormone suppressants is not detectable in an omega’s sent. Supporters say access to omega hormone suppressants is a right and omegas know best how to choose what is right for their bodies and their needs. 

Because hormone suppressants are some of the few drugs available to omegas without the consent of an alpha, stories of abuse have surfaced in the last few decades. The Hale family suffered a minor scandal after Laura and Derek’s father, Dr. Reve Hale died of an omega hormone suppressant overdose when they were still in middle school. The death was ruled accidental.

Despite this, Laura Hale remains an outspoken advocate for omegas’ right to hormone suppressants, where her brother campaigns as vehemently opposed. Sources close to the family say the siblings haven’t spoken in nearly two years.


	5. April 18th, 2019

April 18th, 2019

L & L Consulting Headquarters  
Beacon Hills, California

“Look,” Vernon Boyd is so broad he barely fits in his half of the black town car he and Derek have wedged themselves into, parked in front of L & L Consulting. “I wasn’t going to ask, but what the hell are we doing here?"

"We are not doing anything,” Derek says tersely between gritted teeth. He folds the Washington Post over so he can gaze at Boyd. “I am going to go talk to my sister about this.” He flaps the article at Boyd so the large alpha can see the smiling picture of Laura and Jared Keane walking through some airport together. “You know what this is?” Derek says.

Boyd squints at the photo. “Your sister hightailing it through LaGuardia in six-inch heels with a hippie?”

“This,” Derek says, pointedly. “Is a declaration of war.”

“No,” Boyd shakes his head. “The wishbone she threw at your face two Thanksgivings ago was a declaration of war. This is the media being late to the party per usual.”

“You can’t tell me you knew about this,” Derek growls.

“Did I know Keane was going to hire her to run his campaign?” Boyd asks. “No. Did I know she had it in for your ass? I might have heard a few things.” Derek sinks back into a sulking silence, staring broodingly at his sister’s building out the car window.

“Look,” Boyd sighs, rubbing his face. “I want you to level with me, man. Alpha to alpha.”

Derek glances over at Boyd, shifting the well-worn newspaper in his hand. “When have I ever not leveled with you?” He asks.

“I’m running your team, Derek,” Boyd says, staring across at his friend, intensely. “this time around, just like last time. And nobody can say I didn’t come through for you. They all said it couldn’t be done, man. They all said there’s no way a TTF candidate could become a senator for California. But I got you there, Derek. I ran your team. I called your plays. I was your quarterback. I got you there.”

“And you think I don’t know this?” Derek asks, shifting. “You think I’m not grateful-“

“Fuck grateful,” Boyd says. “You think I can eat gratitude? I got seven figures in the bank. I don’t need Derek Hale's gratitude. The point is, I was your quarterback when we were kids right out of law school trying to figure out how to run your granddaddy’s company and when you decided to run for senator, I was quarterback for you then.” He sighs. “And I didn’t question the Dorf thing, Derek. I didn’t question the TTF, none of that. Because you’re my brother and I believed in you. I believed in you as an alpha and I believed in you as a man.”

“Boyd-“ Derek starts.

“Shut the fuck up for once in your privileged-ass life and listen to me,” Boyd says, squaring his gaze against Derek. “You don’t know what this has cost me, Derek. I’m running a campaign for the TTF. You know what they call me out there? You know I had to figure out how to explain that to my mother?”

“There are other black TTF supporters-“ Derek rolls his eyes.

“Well, I’m not one of them.” Boyd interjects, his voice serious.

“I know,” Derek nods. “I know that.”

“I stayed with you, I did all of this, because I believe in you. Not them. Not Dorf. You.” Boyd says, staring at Derek. “But I got to know, Derek.” He holds Derek’s gaze for a long moment. “Did Mason Dorf make you a deal?”

Derek holds Boyd’s gaze for a long moment. “You’re going to have to specify.”

“Did Mason Dorf come to you, offer to put the big donors of the TTF behind you, hand you the senate election, so he could tap you for the ticket for 2020?” Boyd asks, still not looking away.

“The ticket?” Derek looks recalcitrant.

“Did he offer you VP for 2020?” Boyd says.

“He has a VP.” Derek says, his eyes giving away nothing.

“Weber is not going to get him re-elected.” Boyd says. “Dorf is less popular in the polls now than when he was elected, and he was never that popular. He won his first election by playing the electoral college. The way the numbers are going it doesn’t look good. He sees you—a handsome, young centrist from a name brand family. You don’t think I don’t know what he’s thinking.” Boyd shakes his head. “The question is, what are you thinking?”

Derek pauses for a long moment; he opens his mouth and takes a breath. His words, when they come are slow and deliberate.

“If you’re asking me if Dorf promised me the vice presidency in exchange for turning TTF?” Derek pauses momentarily. “No. He made no such explicit promise.”

Boyd stares at Derek’s face for a long moment. Their eyes meet.

“That was all I needed to know.” Boyd says. “Now, about your sister…”


	6. April 18th, 2019

April 18th, 2019  
L & L Consulting Headquarters  
Beacon Hills, California

“Senator Hale!” The young omega at the front desk of L & L Consulting drops the stack of papers she was holding with a loud thud as Derek shoulders through the gleaming doors into the atrium of his sister’s offices. “It’s really you. Wow.” She turns a profuse shade of scarlet. “I mean, um… how can I help you?”

“You can call my sister and tell her to expect me in her office in about four and a half seconds,” Derek says, he inhales slightly. The whole building is permeated with the deep peony, fig, and blood scent he knows to be unmistakably Laura, infused with the crisp mint and melted gold smell that is all Lydia. He stares down at the omega, unperturbed to be in an environment that is so obviously not part of his territory.

The omega surreptitiously looks down at the laminated photo taped on the desk calendar, facing away from the front doors. It’s a tabloid picture of Senator Hale’s face with a goatee and devil horns drawn in under which is printed in Laura’s pointed scrawl, _“Do not let in under any circumstances!”_

“Oh.” The omega stammers. “I mean, do you have an appointment?”

“No, he does not.” Lydia’s voice rings out over the atrium as the tiny alpha struts down the stairs in Jimmy Choo slingbacks and a sour expression. “What are you doing here?” Lydia demands.

“I’m here to see my sister.” Derek says, rising to his full height, internally annoyed that someone five-foot-one could always make him feel somewhat diminished.

Lydia’s keen eyes take in Derek’s travel-ruffled Tom Ford jeans and black V-neck, he can feel her zero in on the Washington Post still tucked under his arm.

“You can see her at the debates.” She says, raising one eyebrow, daring him to contradict her.

Derek silently curses female alphas from here to Moscow and purposely starts striding up the stairs, pushing past the minuscule alpha.

“It can’t wait.” He says, his long legs quickly eclipsing Lydia’s.

“Derek! Wait!” Lydia squeals after him, trying desperately to keep up with the male alpha’s superior stride. “You can’t go up there!”

Derek ignores her squeals, purposefully pushing past a few gawking interns, and shouldering his way through cubicles, following his sister’s all-too-familiar scent.

“Get back here!” Lydia is practically clawing at him trying to catch his arm, his jeans, any part of him she possibly can with her tiny manicured hands, dozens of gaping employees watching dumbstruck as their small, usually perfect and poised boss tries to tackle a sitting US senator. “You can’t!”

Derek shrugs her off, stepping easily and confidently to the tall French doors on an executive conference room. He takes one large, alpha hand and shoves the glass door forwards, striding into the room.

“Laura-“ Derek’s sister’s name dies in his throat as he stares at the conference in front of him, all of a suddenly completely and totally unable to make sense of what he’s seeing. Derek feels his breath leave his body, possibly for the last time. He is struck dumb, rooted to the spot, unable to move, to possibly begin to reconcile the images before him.

It is the most ordinary scene imaginable. Derek’s brain can recognize everything and nearly everyone in the room immediately. But this, this scene somehow fills him with such a bizarre and immediate sense of horror, for one agonizing moment, Derek thinks he must be dreaming, must be in a nightmare. His sister stands in the front of the room, glaring up at him in a black capelet, looking nearly unchanged since the last time he saw her in person, two years-ago. A beta Derek instantly recognizes as Jared Keane sits across the conference table, staring up at Derek in the same watered-blue shirt he’d been wearing at the press conference last night. Several other staffers litter the room indiscriminately.

All of this is normal. Expected even. No. What has Derek seriously doubting his sanity is the figure standing directly in front of him with his back turned to Derek. Derek’s eyes take in the slim waist, a waist he could always find in the darkness of their shared bed, the trim, delicate shoulders, shoulders he’s kissed and massaged and swung his arm around during countless movies, and long graceful neck… and there he stops. This is Stiles. This person, this phantom, this thing must be Stiles. But this is not Derek’s Stiles. This Stiles, his straight back turned with Stiles' posture and Stiles' favorite type of pen tucked casually behind one perfect ear, has no marks on his neck. Derek stares at the clean expanse of smooth skin, from his ear down to the omega’s shirt collar and back again. Derek’s eyes move over and over that expanse of six inches, maybe a hundred times in a single second, searching desperately for what he knows should be there. But it’s just skin. This Stiles, this ghost, this revenant, this monster sent for the depths of Derek’s nightmares to taunt him in the daylight bears no marking of Derek, no evidence they’d ever even met. In horror, still unbelieving somehow, Derek inhales sharply. He nearly chokes on the scent. Soft, nearly downed undertones of honey laced with the tell-tale scents of iron and bile. This omega—he smells of death.

And there is Laura, flying at him as if in slow motion, screaking and manhandling him out of the doors and down the hall, nearly doubling his larger body over in her haste to pull him from the conference room. All the time Derek can’t even feel his body. All he can do is see those six inches of unblemished flesh and smell the chemical scent of something already doomed.

The thing that fucks him up the most, the thing that might live with Derek for a long time after this and torment him with a million undefinable and unanswerable thoughts is that last image Derek got before Laura tackled him out of the room. That Stiles, the ghost Stiles had been wearing extremely worn Gucci loafers.


	7. April 18th, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle By Taylor Swift
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeKiVfqm-_s
> 
> "And I used to be on your side  
> Now it's looking like we're going to battle  
> And why you're taking shots at me like  
> Somebody's gonna give you a medal?  
> And I never wanna hurt you  
> But I'm tired of taking all these blows  
> And so I'd rather be on your side  
> But if you wanna fight  
> Baby let's go, oh, oh"

April 18th, 2019  
L & L Consulting Headquarters  
Beacon Hills, California

Laura hauls Derek bodily in her office, Lydia following quickly after. The alpha shoves her brother roughly into the room before slamming the glass door shut so hard for a moment Lydia is afraid it’s going to shatter. Derek is breathing hard, staring into space, seemingly unable to see anything, and Laura is rearing up, an expression on her face Lydia hasn’t seen in quite some time.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Laura demands, so angry she’s nearly shaking. “How the hell did you get up here?”

“Laura-“ Derek chokes out his sister’s name, blanching visible. He points one massive hand towards where the three of them have just come. “Tell me that wasn’t… that wasn’t-“

“Stiles?” Laura asks, folding her arms staunchly in front of herself. “So what if it was?”

Derek seems to have recovered at these words, blood rushing back into his handsome face. “Laura- what is he doing here?” He demands, all six-foot-two-inches of him towering over them both.

Laura stares back at her brother obstinately, uncowed. “He works for me.”

“What?!” Derek demands, blinking at his sister. “He was in there-- he was in there, in that room with Keane!”

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now.” Laura says, her voice cool. “I’m Keane’s chief campaign strategist.”

Derek stares at his sister in abject horror as if he can’t fully comprehend what he’s hearing, as if even after the past five years of bad blood between the siblings he still can’t reconcile what Laura’s telling him with reality.

“You have _Stiles_ working on Keane’s campaign?!” He chokes this.

Laura refuses to look abashed or break her intense gaze at her brother. “He’s the best researcher there is, Derek. I’m sure you remember-“

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” Derek explodes. “That is such a crock of shit! You don’t think I don’t see what’s going on here?!” He shakes his head violently as if to clear in from the hallucinations he looks like he’s sure he’s having. “Let’s put aside the fact that you’ve agreed to take over my opposition’s campaign—you brought Stiles into this?!” Derek stares at his sister as if she’s literally just plunged a knife into his chest. “I can’t fucking believe you would stoop that low-“

“He needed a job, Derek.” Laura says icily, glaring up at her raging brother. “He’s back in school and he needs to support himself.” She looks at him hard. “He doesn’t have anyone.”

Derek stares at her for a moment, “You’re going to tell me this is about taking care of Stiles?” He says. “That this is what’s best for Stiles, pulling him into my campaign?” Derek shakes his head. “I’ll never believe it. You’re too much of a goddamned opportunist for that, Laura.” He runs one agitated hand through his hair. “I knew you were pissed at me, but I never once imagined you, my own sister, wouldn’t fight fair-“

“I’m sure it’s real convenient for you, Derek.” Laura counters. “I know you don’t give a shit about Stiles’ well-being. We all remember-“

“Yeah. I forgot.” Derek says sarcastically. “You know everything about what happened between me and Stiles. You’re the expert, judge, jury, and executioner for my relationship-“

“I know that I couldn’t let that omega work himself to death, Derek,” Laura says, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Just because you could give a shit about your responsibilities doesn’t mean I can let go of mine that easily-“

“This is a purely, calculated, political move on your part, Laura,” Derek says shaking his head. “You can’t tell me you’re not planning to use him some way-“

“Use him how, exactly?” Laura demands. “What are you afraid of, Derek? There are no laws against leaving your omega high and dry because you are a selfish-ass-“

“Laura, you’re my sister, but I am tired of taking hits from you below the belt for the past five years,” Derek growls, his white teeth elongating slightly as he takes one menacing step towards his sister. “And I will beat the shit out of you if you say one more word about the repudiation-“

“I will break every bone in your body!” Laura thunders back, leaning down, her claws out, to tear off her Louboutin Antinorina pumps. “I’ve broken three of them before—I promise you the rest won’t be that hard!”

“Laura-“ Lydia’s tone is warning.

“No!” Laura yells, turning to Lydia. “I want him to try me! I would love to explain to the media and everyone else why I had to put my punk-ass little brother in the ICU!” She turns back to Derek. “You want to go? Come at me!”

“Oh no,” Lydia steps determining in between the two siblings. “This is not happening.” She throws up her hands and glares at both of them. “I am NOT going to explain to your mother once again why two of her children got into a physical brawl. Trust me—if either of you put me in that position again, I will make you regret it for the rest of your lives!”

Derek’s shoulders drop, and he takes a step back. So does Laura, folding her arms across her chest again.

“I am not going to make this election about Stiles,” Laura says, her voice comes out low, through clenched teeth as if she’s trying very hard to control her anger. “Even if I thought it could be done, which it can’t, I would never do that to him.” She pauses. “The poor kid has been through enough.”

Derek looks down. “What are you paying him?” He asks.

“Enough to cover his living expenses,” Laura says. “He won’t take anymore. He knows what this type of work normally pays.”

Derek looks up at his sister, his face unreadable. “If you really want to help Stiles, Laura, send him away. Get him away from this campaign.” Derek suddenly looks years older than Lydia has ever seen him. “Send him to Iowa. I know some of your people are out there preparing for the first primary. You could pay for him to relocate. Fuck. I don’t care, take it from my profit-sharing for Hale Industries.”

“He’s enrolled at a local university,” Lydia says.

“Then pay for him to transfer,” Derek says, his jaw set. “But if this is really about what’s best for him, you wouldn’t involve him in this.”

Laura stares at her brother for one long moment. “Nice try.” She says.

“I knew it.” Derek says bitterly, staring at his sister as if he doesn’t know her. “I knew this wasn’t about taking care of him.” He throws up one angry hand. “If you gave a shit he wouldn’t smell like that-“

“You pompous, chauvinist asshole!” Laura growls, her brilliant green eyes narrowing. “You think I like that any more than you do?!” She stares at Derek, stricken. “Derek, you had a responsibility to protect and care for that omega, just as I have a responsibility to protect and care for you. You took any say I had over his healthcare away when you repudiated him.”

“Yeah,” Derek says bitterly. “You’re my dominant alpha. You’re a head of household. Protect me? Laura, you’ve been trying to publicly eviscerate me since I declared for the TTF.”

“Dorf is a misogynistic racist fascist, Derek!” Laura exclaims. “Has our mother taught you nothing?!”

“Did you ever stop and think for a single second that I might have had my reasons for doing what I’ve done?!” Derek asks, his face a mess of emotions. “No. No, you never even gave me the benefit of the doubt. You never even tried to talk to me about it-“

“Oh, I tired,” Laura says, her red nails digging into her arm. “After you left Stiles, I tried for months to talk to you. Mom tried. Kent tried. Cora and Heather tried. You’re the one who closed us out, Derek. You left us just like you left him.” She shakes her head in disgust. “This is your bed, Derek. You’re the one who worked so hard to make it. Don’t you dare lie in it now and complain to me about how it feels.”

Derek stares at her for a long minute. “And if I asked you to promise to not make this election about Stiles?”

“Would you believe me if I did?” Laura’s face is hard.

“No.” Derek says.

“Then I think we’re done here,” Laura says. She turns to Lydia. “Have security walk him out.”

“There’s no need.” Derek scowls as Lydia reaches down for Laura’s desk phone and pages a security guard. The cell phone in Derek’s pants’ pocket buzzes as he pushes his way past the guard at the door. “Boyd?” He says into the phone. “Yeah, I’m just leaving now.” He pauses. “How’d it go? She threatened to break every bone in my body. I guess I owe you twenty bucks.”

Laura and Lydia stare at each other, alone in Laura’s office as the door slams shut behind Derek. Laura is closing her eyes and rubbing her temples.

“Did you see the way he looked when he saw Stiles?” Lydia asks, breaking the silence.

Laura lets out a long, slow breath. “Yeah.” She says.

“It wasn’t shock.” Lydia tilts her head. “It wasn’t anger or regret… it was terror.” She pauses. “I’ve never seen him look that way before.”

“I have,” Laura says lowly. “At our dad’s wake when he was eleven. He looked like that the first time he saw our dad’s body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Dressing An American Haunting
> 
> As many of my past readers have surmised, I'm a bit of a fashionphile. I often choose to include designers in my work because I think it helps inform the world I'm attempting to build. I often portray the Hales as a powerful family whose fierce women are often in the public eye. This is perhaps no truer than in this story. I find dressing Lydia and Laura, two powerful alpha women, in the labels and styles I think they would really shop and really wear (hopefully) adds realism and helps the readers be better engrossed in the world of the fic. I haven't really ever commented on this before and thought I would add a note about it for those, like me who find costuming fascinating.Most of the clothing, shoes, and bags attributed to these characters really exist. For those who are interested, these are the shoes Laura takes off when she is about to fight Derek:
> 
> https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/christian-louboutin-antinorina-red-sole-pumps-prod218340138


	8. April 18th, 2019

April 19th, 2019  
L & L Consulting Headquarters  
Beacon Hills, California

“Look, the thing we need to focus on in Fresno is the narrative,” Stiles is standing on one leg at the side of the conference room absently itching his calf with his other foot. The omega restlessly shifts his pen between his slender fingers before sticking it behind his ear, his beautiful face screwed up in what Jared now knows is the omega’s hallmark look of irritated concentration. “If we don’t stick to the narrative that we’ve chosen to define you, the media is going to start to define you. We don’t want to give them that chance.”

Jared Keane is staring up at the omega he has come to see as irreplaceable in his campaign, still marveling internally at how someone so young, who has yet to even attain a bachelor’s degree can be so politically astute. As always in meetings, Jared can’t look away from Stiles. He takes in the slender omega’s form, partially hidden under a typically rumpled cheap white oxford and ill-fitting jeans. Stiles always looks like he’s been up half the night doing homework and eats all of his meals in his car to and from work and class, yet the omega is somehow the most physically captivating creature Jared has ever seen. His wide eyes sparkle and dance constantly with raw intelligence as he scans through the notes in front of him on the conference table, his fawn-colored hair stuck up in all the wrong places.

This omega is never still, never content. Stiles is constantly stalking around the office, running his fingers nervously through his hair as he scans the web for media updates. His nailbeds are a mess as he picks at them constantly as if he is physically incapable of calming. Jared has noticed there are times when Stiles seems particularly agitated at his desk where Laura will come sailing out of her office, seemingly for no reason, only to settle one elegant hand on Stiles' shoulder as if she somehow knew he needed soothing. It is only in these rare moments when Stiles looks up at her, unsmiling, his wide eyes shaded and somehow almost haunted and something severely private and silent will pass between them that Jared can actually imagine Stiles used to be Laura Hale’s brother-in-law.

The first time Jared was introduced to Stiles, he hadn’t even known the omega was his opposition’s ex-mate. Laura had ushered him into the office one day and over to a cubical in the corner. An omega with unkempt hair, wearing worn jeans and a faded red hoodie had been standing up, leaning over the desk, the desk chair wildly abandoned behind him, furiously staring a batch of papers with about a million tortured notes scrawled through the pages.

“Jared, this is our new researcher, Stiles,” Laura had said. She lay an elegant hand on the omega’s shoulder in a gesture that should have immediately tipped Jared off, as Laura never touched anyone if she could help it. She had smiled down at the omega with an expression that could only be described as uncharacteristically nurturing. “Stiles, I’d like you to meet our candidate, Jared Keane.” She turned back to Jared. “Jared, Stiles is a journalism major over at St. Cecilia’s. He’s managed to find time in his schedule to help us out even though he’s in school fulltime.”

The omega had straightened up to look at Jared then, and Jared had immediately been caught by his guileless eyes, a sharp intelligence clearly flickering in them, as the omega gazed at him with an intensity Jared had only ever seen in alphas before.

“Is he an intern?” Jared asks, taking in the omega’s casual clothes and young appearance.

“I’ve brought Stiles on as a researcher,” Laura announces as if she’s handing Jared a winning lotto ticket. “He’s fantastic.”

“Is that my speech for the Berkley town hall?” Jared had asked, looking down at the sheets of paper the omega had in front of him.

“Yeah,” The omega had spoken then. Jared had met dozens of staffers by then and they all had spoken to him with a sort of awed deference. He saw none of this in the university student before him.

The omega addressed him with almost careless boredom. “Did you write this?” The omega asked, pushing up his glasses absently.

“Yes.” Jared had said, a little taken aback at the omega’s question. He turned to Laura. “You gave a college student my speech?”

“Trust me,” Laura said, with a knowing smile. “He’s the one you want to have that.”

“It’s pretty good.” Stiles said, leaning over to scribble something else to the already crowded margins. “Of course, it’s a little too similar to the one you gave in San Diego last week, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to stay on message this early in the campaign, you know, build a narrative. But here-“ The omega had circled part of the text and was pointing to it, staring at the paper like it held the secrets to life. “Here is where you go wrong.”

Jared had leaned down to see what the omega had been pointing at. He frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s too specific.” Stiles says. “The opposition candidate keeps everything general. That way nobody can attack him on policies—he doesn’t clarify that many of them. If you start talking policy this early in the election, they’ll have almost a year to run attack ads on them. And if you need to change your position later, they can label you a flip-flopper.”

Jared had stared at the omega.

“That’s great, Stiles,” Laura said, smiling. “Do you think you have time to rework some ideas for it before you go tonight?”

Laura and the omega had left him then, leaving Jared feeling as though he had just been hit by a truck indoors. Alisha Gomez, one of the other staffers had rushed up to him then, leaning over conspiratorially, both of them staring at the backs of Stiles and Laura as they were walking away.

“Can you believe that’s Stiles Stilinski?” Alisha had asked him.

“What?” Jared asked, feeling as though he were missing something.

“That’s Derek’s ex-mate,” Alisha had clarified.

“What?” Jared balked. Through cursory research, he had read Derek had gone through a repudiation several years prior, but he couldn’t remember anything about the omega. He stared in disbelief at the intense young college student’s back. How was it possible that this brilliant, disheveled omega had been mated to the immaculate, intimidating alpha he had seen in press pictures. “How is he old enough to be Derek’s ex-mate?”

“Must be older than he looks,” Alisha had shrugged, she looked at Jared sideways. “Yeah, he’s not what I expected either.”

“What’s he doing on my campaign?” Jared had wondered aloud. “And where is his mating scar?”

Alisha shrugged. “My guess? Bad breakup. As for the scar? I would guess he’s wearing a prosthesis. It’s the newest thing.”

In the coming weeks, Jared would come to respect the fiery omega more and more. Stiles was an intensely meticulous researcher with a sixth sense for the media and a wicked sense of humor. Jared began to spend more and more time with the omega, laughing and joking, shaping speeches and talking strategy. Never once did Stiles ever mention being Derek’s ex. In fact, Stiles only ever referred to Derek as ‘the opposition’ or ‘the opposition candidate.’ Never once did he volunteer any personal information about Derek or insights on Derek’s character. It was as if Stiles had never met Derek.

Jared looks up from his musing about Stiles as the conference room doors fly open and an enormous alpha who could only be Derek Hale comes barreling into the room. Jared has seen countless photos and videos of Derek, and even works with Derek’s sister nearly every day, but nothing can prepare him for seeing the man in person. Huge and chiseled, as if pulled from Greek mythology, Derek is even more handsome in person. More powerful than his facial features is the unmistakable air of alpha mastery Derek gives off. Despite bursting into his sister’s territory unannounced, Derek looks unshaken and unmovably steady. Jared is a beta, and his sense of smell isn’t sensitive, but the room is instantly covered in a rich, pungent, musk, something akin to the blood/fig smell of Laura, but unmistakably more potent and male. Then the alpha’s face contorts completely as he stares, seemingly dumbfounded at the back of Stiles' head.

“Oh no, no, no, no!” Laura is shrieking, barreling toward Derek. “You- get out of here!” The alpha wrestles her shell-shocked brother out of the room before anyone can register if what they’re seeing is correct.

The silence the two alphas leave behind in the conference room as the doors bang shut is almost deathly.

“Was that who I think it was?” Alisha breaks the silence from the side of the room. “Tell me Derek Hale didn’t just break into the room. Tell me I’m hallucinating.”

Stiles hasn’t moved. Jared watches him as the omega distractedly reaches up, running his slender fingers over his neck and begins to scratch anxiously at the skin behind his ear. The pen falls from it with a distinct plop.

“No.” Stiles says, his face completely blank. “That was him.”

“You have your back turned to the doors.” Alisha said. “You couldn’t even see him.”

Stiles shifts slightly, obviously aware of every eye in the room trained on him. The omega lifts his hand and taps the side of his nose, indicating his sense of smell.

“You don’t forget.” He says simply.


	9. March 20th, 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You & Me by James TW
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAScwlgfidg
> 
> "As long as I got you and me  
> Moving through this world as a two-man team  
> I'll always have everything I need  
> You don't even realize what you mean  
> No one could fall for you quite like me"

March 20th, 2012  
Derek Hale’s Estate  
Beacon Hills, California

Stiles is propped up on Derek’s enormous leather great room couch, swearing loudly at the TV as he flicks his long, beautiful fingers over the video game controller. The omega isn’t a serious gamer—neither of them are, but he’s beating Derek badly right now. Derek can’t pay attention to whatever stupid game is going on in front of him, because there’s something off about the omega’s scent. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but it has his alpha instinct seriously rankled. For the first time since he and Stiles met, there is something other than Derek’s scent contaminating the omega’s raw honey aroma.

Stiles had walked in Derek’s house about forty-five minutes ago after Derek had swung by the college to pick him up. Derek had carried Stiles’ enormously heavy book bag into the house before dropping it where it lay somewhere forgotten in the front hall. He and Stiles aren’t touching on the couch and Derek hands twitch slightly. He wants to take the omega apart right here on the couch and figure out what that foreign scent is. Caffeine? Weed? Nicotine? Derek’s head buzzes through the obvious culprits. He wills himself not to think beyond these relatively innocent explanations, but Derek was never good at subtlety.

“What the fuck, man?” Stiles turns to the alpha, laughing. “You’re not even trying. I haven’t slept in like twenty-four hours and I’m beating you so hard this isn’t even fun.”

“Why didn’t you sleep last night?” Derek hears his voice growing lower, almost a growl. He wonders if it’s too obvious, too crude if he demands to know why Stiles didn’t return any of his texts last night.

Stiles hesitates for half a second, but long enough for Derek to notice.

“I was at a buddy’s apartment studying.” The omega’s voice is casual. He’s turned back to the TV.

Derek drops the controller and leans over, suddenly unable or simply unwilling to help himself. He skims his nose down the omega’s ear and down his long, beautiful neck. Derek knows this neck better than his own now. He’s spent the last ten months licking and sucking on it, making the omega squirm as he maps out the most sensitive places with his lips and teeth. Whenever they’re fucking, which they’ve been doing about three times a week since they met, Derek can’t keep his mouth off Stiles’ neck. He knows exactly how it should smell: like raw manuka honey with an increasingly strong undertone of figs and blood. Instead, the fig smell is much fainter than usual. Stiles’ usual scent of honey has a completely unacceptable streak of cotton and almonds mixed in.

Derek can feel the omega’s smile fade from his lips as he stills under Derek, the whole tone of the room shifting from casual to something infinitely more tenuous as Derek reaches up to gently still the omega.

“What are you doing?” Derek can tell Stiles is still trying to keep his voice light, casual. It is just a shade too intense to work.

Derek leans back, gently letting Stiles go. He looks down at the omega. “You were with an alpha last night, Mischief.” Derek always refers to Stiles as this nickname when they’re alone. He doesn’t like the sound of Stiles’ actual name anymore. ‘Stiles’ is what the rest of the world calls the omega—Derek is not the rest of the world.

Stiles smirks, his face still purposely attempting to hide the look of nervous concern threatening to breakthrough. “Such a stupid nickname.” He shrugs, the omega’s body deliberately loose and casual. “Yeah. Kid from my anatomy class wanted to study.”

“Did he?” Derek growls.

“Yeah.” Stiles forces a laugh, obviously uncomfortable. “I mean, it was funny, actually. He kept calling me ‘Stiles’ and I’m thinking that sounds weird, but I don’t know why.” Stiles smiles. “It’s because you’re usually the only alpha I’m with alone and you never call me that.”

Derek is silent for a long moment. Images are suddenly rushing through his head, toxic and unbidden. Had Stiles let this faceless classmate touch him? Had they slept together? No. Derek was almost positive the intruder alpha’s scent would be stronger if that had happened. Had he let this boy kiss him? To touch the lips, the skin, the neck that belonged to Derek. Suddenly Derek feels his teeth elongating slightly, his skin suddenly boiling. The change to his physiology as he imagines some asinine young pup of a college student daring to try and taste what’s rightfully Derek’s is immediate and strong.

“Dude,” Stiles is looking up at Derek carefully. “What is it?”

Derek swallows, staring at his own clenched fists. The truth comes out before he can stop it. “I’m trying not to have a panic attack.”

“What?” Stiles chokes, staring at the alpha incredulously. “Seriously? Why?”

Derek looks at the omega. They haven’t ever discussed being exclusive, they haven’t even used the words ‘dating’ or ‘date.’ Stiles hates sentiment and the eighteen-year-old seems completely flippant and carefree and reckless as only an omega as beautiful and young as Stiles is could be. Derek hasn’t wanted to scare Stiles away or bore him talks of commitment and convention, but he’s known since they met, Stiles is something rare, something precious, and something Derek was meant to have. He’s known since that first night when they’d fucked in a bathroom stall in the bar Stiles’ had faked his way into that this omega was the perfect fit. They were so effortless together, the attraction instantaneous and potent. He knew how rare a thing like what they had was even if Stiles was too young and too inexperienced to appreciate it.

They’d kept this up for nearly a year now, and Derek had stupidly figured they spent so much time together, and they fucked so much and with such incredible chemistry, Stiles had kind of gotten it, at least on a subconscious level. Apparently, he’d been wrong. And that, well just fuck no to that.

“Stiles,” Derek leaned down and caught the omega’s wide eyes, holding them with his deepest alpha voice. “This isn’t going to work.”

Derek sees a flicker of doubt and confusion cross the omega’s features. “Um. What?” The omega is always all bluster and buoyancy. Derek can tell he’s trying hard to keep a sudden note of fear from his voice.

“It’s not going to work with any other alpha.” Derek continues evenly. “You know that, right?”

This time Stiles’ eyes widen in genuine surprise and he can tell this is not a conversation the omega had been expecting.

“You, I mean,” Stiles blinks, “we never said… I mean, I thought…” He seems incapable of finishing his train of thought and Derek’s whole being instantly floods with affection for this young, beautiful, perfect disaster that has entered his life.

Derek reaches out and strokes Stiles’ hair, edging closer to the omega. “It’s not going to work,” He says, his voice low and steady, every bit the experienced alpha, the one who is supposed to guide and protect this, their relationship. “Because you’re in love with me.”

Stiles stares up at him, and Derek can see a change in him immediately. Stiles doesn’t refute this. He doesn’t say anything, and Derek knows this is the first time the thought he could be in love with Derek has ever really occurred to him in those explicit terms, and yet Stiles knows Derek is also right.

“It’s okay,” Derek says, wrapping his arms around the omega, pulling his now slightly shaking shoulders into a steady embrace. He soothes his large, warm hand through his omega’s hair and down his back, “It’s okay.” He tilts Stiles face up to face him. For once Stiles seems completely lost for words, unable to truly comprehend this moment, the moment when he knows for the first time in his young life that he’s truly fallen in love with an alpha. “I’m going to bite you.” Derek continues, his voice even. “After that, I’m going to marry you. I’m your alpha and I’m going to take care of you.” He pauses, stroking the omega’s quivering hands. “You know I’m right, don’t you?”

Finally, the omega speaks, swallowing dully. “Yeah.” His voice is husky. “Yeah. I do.”

“You love me,” Derek says again, leaning down to press his lips over Stiles’ skin. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” Stiles’ voice is quaking now, and he’s pressing himself against Derek desperately, seeking heat, comfort, the reassurance only his alpha can provide. Derek knows deep inside him Stiles understands this now. “I love you, Derek.”

Derek responds instantly to his omega’s desperate struggles to be touched, pulling the omega onto his lap until Stiles is straddling him, encasing the smaller man in his steady arms. He kisses Stiles' cheeks and eyelids and finally pulls Stiles’ delicate chin up so he can kiss his perfect lips. The omega moans in response, desperately rutting against him, trying to get closer, to be nearer, to feel the full protection of his alpha. Derek growls in complete satisfaction at this. He grips Stiles’ hip and begins to move against him, wanting to feel him, to own him, to remove any trace of any other alpha from what is his.

“Derek,” Stiles’ voice is breathless in his ear. His omega’s hands are wrapped around Derek’s neck and he sounds uncharacteristically small, all the bluster, all the fight gone out of him.

“Yes?” Derek says, kissing the corner of the omega’s mouth, loving the desperation, the vulnerability only he can bring out in Stiles. Nobody gets to see this side of Stiles. Stiles is always so guarded as if he’s developed defensive spikes on his skin. He laughs and jokes like nothing can hurt him. Like nothing is ever serious enough to matter. Derek is the only one Stiles isn’t afraid to be weak with.

“Promise you’ll never leave me,” Stiles’ voice is small, and Derek presses the omega even closer at the sound of it. “Promise me you won’t leave me alone. I don’t know if I can go back to being alone. Again.”

“I’m here.” Derek says, cradling his omega, his world, the one thing that will matter most for the rest of his life. “Your alpha is here. I’m never going to leave you alone. I love you.”


	10. April 18th, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forever and Always By Taylor Swift 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7f8LyanfpWE
> 
> "'Cause I was there when you said forever and always"

_“I’m never going to leave you alone.”_

After five birthdays, five Christmases, five summer holidays, after five years of day in and day out, clawing his way up, out of the grave—above all and above anything, Stiles wishes he could erase the memories of Derek’s voice saying that. Fuck. He could live with everything else if he absolutely had to: every moment of laughter, every weekend in Napa, every Christmas at Talia’s house, the moment Derek first described his estate as ‘theirs,’ every hot, sordid, body-aching moment of them egging each other on mid-fuck—he would settle for having all of that ingrained in his brain for the rest of eternity if he could just forget that Derek had ever said that one particular thing to him. Because it hadn’t mattered. Because it hadn’t been enough. And—above all—because Stiles should have known that it didn’t and that it wouldn’t be. And like an idiot, Stiles had fallen for it. Like every stupid, run-of-the-mill, lost, repudiated omega who hadn’t seen the writing on the wall, who had looked at one handsome alpha and let their weak, lying emotions take them over, Stiles had bought every word. Even with all his supposed brilliance, even with his tough-as-nails upbringing, even though he had been taught a thousand times in a thousand ways growing up, not to trust, not to believe, there hadn’t been a single shred of doubt in Stiles’ mind about Derek. There wasn’t a piece of himself he’d kept back from the alpha. Bottom line—Stiles hadn’t had a contingency plan for Derek. Stiles hadn’t ever even considered he’d needed one.

And five years later, and it this above anything that sickens Stiles. He cannot believe himself.

After all, Stiles reasons, it’s not like Derek had never said he couldn’t live without Stiles. And was that the difference between fool’s gold and true love? Did you literally need to get your alpha to somehow believe he couldn’t live without you in order to be assured of a shared lifetime together? Had Stiles just fallen inches short of the happily ever after he’d been so certain of at one time?

“Stiles,” Keane is looking at him. “Can I talk to you in my office? Please.”

Stiles blinks. He’s not sure he likes that look on Keane’s face. Stiles has learned things about the beta in the last few months of working on the campaign. Keane is kind. He’s incredibly emotionally intelligent, and Keane seems to get Stiles, seems to accept the omega with all of his quirks and personality flaws. Stiles is sure if Keane is going to finally broach the subject of the repudiation for the first time, he’s going to do it respectfully. All the same, there is something rebellious, something almost biting and livid in Stiles as he follows the beta out of the conference room and into Keane’s makeshift office. Keane shuts the door behind him and immediately walks over, close to Stiles.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his corn-flower blue eyes filled with concern as he reaches out to touch Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles feels his internal hackles rise at this question and wills them down. Keane is just being kind, he always is. There is no need to put up some kind of attack against his friend.

Stile’s steels his face into a long-perfected look of indifference. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Stiles had vowed not once, not twice, but probably four-hundred times he would never set foot in a university again. He’d been so tired, so exhausted after dropping out the first time, Stiles wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for the red tape, bureaucratic fight that made up getting a degree ever again. He’d underestimated himself. Underestimated his sheer survival instincts. Stiles rarely made miscalculations—particularly about himself—but when it came to his own conquering spirit, he’d misjudged that one more than once.

Stiles had come back to a college setting to find it had changed drastically in the past five years. The omegas in his classes felt so young, so optimistic, so excited about the way they were going to change the world for the better, so sure of their own bright futures. They were ten times more sensitive than the omegas Stiles had started college with years ago. Not everything in the classroom was alpha-centric now. It was as if not everyone was playing by alpha rules, that omegas were no longer just living, reacting and acting in response to alpha actions. Every syllabus now contained trigger warnings. Stiles had stared at these in confusion at first. As he had gotten to know his classmates, he saw how this was done out of respect to them, how it was just one way of the college helping their student body navigate through the difficult hurdle that was obtaining a degree. And then Derek had burst into the conference room and Stiles had instantly remembered with a blinding clarity how real life and the real world doesn’t come with trigger warnings.

Derek’s scent had brought with it a million images, a million sensations flooding Stiles’ senses all at once. His head in Derek’s lap, the alpha’s strong fingers running themselves through his hair. Derek’s lips against his neck, the sharp bite of his teeth in Stiles’ sensitized flesh. Derek and Stiles laughing like lunatics at their own dumb brand of humor. Derek’s arms around his waist, tucking Stiles in closer to his solid, safe body at night.

_“I will never leave you alone.”_

“Stiles,” Keane stars hesitantly, rubbing the omega’s forearm, “I’ve avoided asking… I figured you would talk about it when you were ready…” Keane shakes. “But fuck… I never thought he’d show up here.”

“Really?” Stiles smirks, he can’t help it. “You’ve worked with Laura this long, you’ve met Talia and Cora—you know the Hales and you didn’t think he’d show up after the news dropped last night?”

“I was under the impression Derek and his family were estranged,” Keane says, his eyebrows knitted together. “You knew he would show up?” The question of why Stiles bothered to come in at all today hangs, unspoken between them.

“I figured he wouldn’t get past the front desk,” Stiles shrugs. “You should talk to Lydia about the security of this place.

Keane pauses, considering Stiles closely. His fingers resume their rubbing against the inside of Stiles’ arms. “Is he always that angry?” The beta asks.

Stiles shrugs, unconsciously taking a step back from Keane and turning towards the window. “I once saw Laura break his hand in three places.”

He looks down into the parking lot to see Boyd’s dark town car pulling away.

“Why did she do that?” Keane asks.

Stiles looks back at the beta over his shoulder, his face betraying nothing. “I’m pretty sure it was because of me.”

“Stiles,” Keane’s voice is hesitant, gentle. “I think it would help me to know—I mean, for the campaign, why did you guys break up?”

Stiles laughs, his voice utterly humorless. “Why do you think? He repudiated me.”

“I mean, why did he repudiate you?” Keane presses genty.

Stiles pauses for a moment, before smiling the oddest smile. “Because he had to.” The omega says. “God knows I never would have left.”

“Stiles,” Keane’s face is hard with concern and confusion. “He mated with you. You were engaged. I’m not an alpha, but I know you—you never would have mated with anyone if it weren’t incredibly serious. If you didn’t trust them—”

Stiles looks at Keane, one eyebrow raised, entirely unimpressed.

“He seems so violent.” Keane says finally, walking over, close to the omega. “So angry. I can’t imagine you with someone like that.”

“He and Laura have always butt heads. They bring out the worst in each other. Cora has always been his favorite.” Stiles shrugs, “He wasn’t ever angry when I was with him. I think Laura makes him feel out of control, her being his dominant alpha and everything. Derek hates feeling like he’s not the one in control.”

“And he couldn’t control you,” Keane surmises. “It’s sick. It’s sick the way alphas think they can dictate every little thing about their omega’s lives—”

Stiles turns to Keane, his eyes sharp. “Is that what you think?” He laughs again, humorless and cold. “You think I’m some kind of victim here? You think because he’s Derek Hale and I’m an omega, this is his fault?”

Keane looks back at Stiles with intensity. “I know enough about you that you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him without good reason.” He says. “I think can only imagine what he promised you—”

“And I wasn’t what he wanted.” Stiles says, his voice hard. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t keep it together. And he left. These things happen.” He looks up at Keane pointedly, “I am not a victim.”

“Stiles,” Jared looks down at the omega, noting the hardness, the walls up in Stiles’ posture. “I’ve watched hundreds of hours of videos, interviews, red carpets- he’s a master manipulator. How old were you when you met?”

“Eighteen.” Stiles’ voice is sullen, unwilling to give an inch.

“Eighteen.” Jared laughs humorlessly. “And how old was he?”

Stiles sighs audibly, “Twenty-five. Right out of Harvard Law.”

Keane shakes his head. “You were a kid. He comes from this rich, powerful family, looking like that? Any omega would have fallen for that-“

Stiles feels rebellious color fill his face, he looks up a Jared, his eyes hard as granite. “I am _not_ any omega.”

“I know.” Jared says. “If you had been, he never would have bothered lying to you in the first place.”

Stiles folds his arm across his chest. “You think I’m mad about the repudiation? You think I have any right to be?”

“Yes,” Keane says, his voice infinitely kind. “I think you have every right. You’re right, you were young, and he promised to take care of you. He promised to be your alpha. That’s a big deal.”

Stiles looks up at Keane, his eyes unblinking. “It’s not a crime to change your mind.” Stiles says finally. He looks down. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

Stiles can feel Jared approaching him again, his arms around him, his sweet-mild-smelling breath on Stiles’ skin. Jared gently presses Stiles' chin up and all of a sudden the beta is kissing him, his lips infinitely gentle and soft as they caress Stiles’ lips. And Stiles allows it to happen, presses back hungrily even, willing his mind into darkness, into blankness, wanting the beta’s scent to cover him, to infuse his whole being until there is nothing but the mild citrus and laundry detergent scent there.

Jared pulls back, his eyes kind and fond. “Whatever it was, I’m glad.” He says. “Whatever brought you to me.”

Stiles feels himself pulling back. He quickly arranges his face into a smile. “Did you look over the notes I left you for the Fresno thing?” He turns towards the coffee maker Keane keeps in his office. His hands shake slightly as he grabs a styrofoam cup and begins to pour himself a dark, black, pungent cup.

“You’ve been hitting the caffeine pretty hard lately,” Keane observes mildly from behind Stiles.

Stiles ignores this, pointedly taking an orange medication bottle from his pocket and popping the cap. He swallows down one white horse pill, chasing it with the black coffee.

“It’s your hometown,” Stiles says. “You should do some interviews with local media.”

“Stiles,” The hesitancy in the beta’s voice is back. “Is there anything I should know about you and Hale? I mean, is anything going to come out in the media that I should be aware-”

“No.” Stiles’ voice has a finality to it. “No. Whatever happened, whatever it was, it’s dead and in the ground now.” He looks back at Keane. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay,” Keane says. “But if you ever want to talk, if you ever need-”

“I don’t,” Stiles says quickly. “Look-- I’m nothing more than a byline on Derek’s Wikipedia page. There might be some kind of human interest story if the media figures out that I’m working on your campaign but that’s it.” He looks up a Keane. “You think Laura, Lydia, and I haven’t anticipated this? Haven’t run the risk factors? I wouldn’t be within a city block of this campaign if any of us thought I could cost you the election.”

“I’m not worried about the election,” Jared says, stepping toward the omega. “I’m worried about you!”

“Well, you don’t need to be.” Stiles says. “I’m great. I’m here for the same reasons you are. I’m here to do everything I can to take down Dorf. I would suggest you focus on that and don’t even think about Derek and me.” Stiles’ jaw sets visibly. “It’s a non-issue.”

“Okay,” Keane says, not wanting to upset the omega. “You just never talk about it.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” Stiles says. “And if you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll focus on the issues. And I’m not one of them.”

“So, you’re okay?” Keane says, still unable to keep the concern from his voice.

“Of course I am.” Stiles says stiffly. “Now go look over those notes about Fresno and stop wasting your time.”

The omega had left the office then, a death grip on his cup of coffee. Jared had mechanically picked up the notes Stiles had left for him on his desk. He’d thought Stiles would say something like this, had hoped that whatever happened between the spritely omega and his opponent was ancient history. He should feel relieved at the omega’s words. But something keeps playing in Jared’s mind, something he just can’t shake-- the look on Derek Hale’s face as the alpha had stared at Stiles’ neck.


	11. April 19th, 2019

April 19, 2019

The View Sound Stage  
Los Angeles, California

Laura Hale looks up from her vanity where she’s flicking spare bits of Patrick Powder off of the shoulder of her black Victoria Beckham Fitted Seam Detail dress. The make-up team has just left and she has forty-five minutes before she has to enter the studio where today’s taping is about to begin. Kate Argent has just burst into Laura’s dressing room unannounced, pulling at her freshly ironed Misha Nonoo Husband shirt dress. The tall omega swoops into a leather chair next to Laura and smiles cooly.

“I don’t recall informing maintenance I wanted my dressing room to smell like Chanel knock-offs and desperation,” Laura says, eyeing the omega. “So what are you doing here?”

Kate smiles, her hazel eyes glinting. “Is that any way to talk to your future sister-in-law, Laura?”

“Absolutely not,” Laura agrees. “But you’re not my future sister-in-law.”

Kate stiffens, “We’re all but engaged.” She says. “Even if you don’t like it, that doesn’t change how things really are.”

“I knew you were stupid, Kate,” Laura says lightly, “But I never really thought you were delusional until now.” She laughs. “My brother won’t even admit to the press that the two of you are an item.”

Kate frowns, “Derek is very private!” She says. “Of course he doesn’t want the media all over his business.” Laura shoots Kate an unbelieving look. “He’s trying to spare me the hassle of the paparazzi!”

“Then he clearly doesn’t know you very well,” Laura notes dryly. “You’re almost as hungry for publicity as you are for my brother’s last name.” Laura shrugs. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t start making any wedding registries if I were you. Counting chickens before they hatch, that kind of thing.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about Derek and my’s personal life,” Kate sniffed. “You’re not even talking to each other. What could you possibly know about the way Derek feels about me?”

“Well,” Laura shrugs. “I’ve seen the way my brother acts when he’s about to propose and this?” She levels her gaze at Kate, “This ain’t it.”

“How would you know?” Kate snarls.

“Because we’ve been through this once before.” Laura sighs, rolling her eyes. “Derek and I might not see eye to eye on much right now, but this isn’t the first time we’ve been in a fight. I’m still a head of household, I’m still his dominant alpha. If you were about to marry my brother, or even mate with my brother, you would be about to fall under my care and protection. If that were the case, I promise you Derek wouldn’t let me verbally obliterate you on national television four days a week.”

“Derek doesn’t care what you think, Laura,” Kate says. “You’ve been a shitty sister and a shitty alpha to him.” She tossed her head, “He’s your brother-- and just because now he has a difference of political opinion from you--”

“Mason Dorf is not just a difference in politics,” Laura says, her eyes flashing. “My brother did not just declare his support for Bush, Sr.-- so don’t act like the two things are comparable. Mason Dorf is not a difference in political opinions-- Mason Dorf is a referendum on how far my brother’s morality has fallen. And you-” Laura glares at Kate. “You’re just a tacky consequence of his moral decay.”

“This is what I’ve never liked about you, Laura,” Kate says. “You’re a bully. You stand up here on your self-righteous liberal pedestal demonizing those who don’t believe as you do, including your own brother. I heard you’ve brought his ex into this. You wouldn’t be digging up ancient history if you were really as good a person as you think you are.”

Laura eyes Kate, “Derek told you that, did he?”

Kate flushes slightly, “Boyd did.” She shakes her head. “You know he won’t talk about the past.”

“Mmm.” Laura makes a face. “Yes. Ancient history. You think you’re about to marry an alpha who won’t even talk to you about his ex-mate?”

“Stiles is irrelevant,” Kate insists. “That’s why Derek never talks about him. He probably never even thinks about him anymore.” Kate shakes her head. “It’s low to bring him into Derek’s election, Laura. Even for you.”

“He’s a researcher for the campaign,” Laura says. “If he’s such ancient history his presence shouldn’t bother you.”

“Of course he is,” Kate’s beautiful face twists into a scowl. “Derek could recall him at any time,” Kate says. “The law gives the repudiating alpha the right to recall his omega at any time for any reason. If Derek still cared, he would have done that by now. But not even you and your bullying family were enough to make him want to do that.”

“I would keep my family’s name out of your mouth,” Laura says, her eyes flashing dangerously. “And I will let you in on something, Kate.” She leans closer to the omega threateningly. “I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of the ring my brother used to propose to Stiles, you’re too obsessed with Derek to not have looked up the engagement announcement in The Times archives. Four carats, Ascher cut? It was our Grandmother Hale’s. Senator Hale used it to propose to her right before his election back in the day. When I proposed to Kent I got our dad’s ring-- Derek got our grandmother’s.” She pauses, “He carried that ring around with him for six months before he proposed. I think he had it since the morning after he bit Stiles.” Laura’s eyes flicker to Kate’s neck. “I don’t see a bite.” She looks at the omega pointedly. “Derek was in my office last night and I didn’t see the outline of a ring box in his pants the way I did for months before Stiles.”

“You hateful bitch!” Kate seethes. “Derek is done with your family. I’d never accept a ring from your family history anyways! He’s broken ties with you. He knows I’m the biggest conservative star in the media today. He knows what I can do for him, for his career-”

“Kate, how do I say this in a way that keeps our relationship professional?” Laura rolls her eyes. “My brother is a pig and you’re a pig-fucker.”

“Oh yeah,” Kate says, getting up. “Call names. That’s all your side knows how to do. That and tax and spend. Derek is done with you. He’s done with all of you! And when I’m Second Lady I’ll make sure nobody in your family is ever politically viable again!”

“Again with the delusions,” Laura says. “I honestly feel bad for you, Kate. You know nothing about my brother and you know nothing about my family. I guess if you’re dumb enough to let Derek use you like this, you two deserve each other.”

“Use me?” Kate spits. “You’re so confident you know everything, Laura.” She laughs sarcastically. “I always knew you’d be my favorite sister-in-law.”

“Well, seeing as the last time you came to my mother’s house Cora tried to feed you something the cat threw up in, I’m sure that’s true,” Laura observes dryly.

“I guess we’ll see you at Kingsley-Hall Benefit,” Kate says. “I assume you’re taking your candidate?”

“Oh, he’ll be there.” Laura smiles.

“Good,” Kate says. “You can see for yourself how much your brother loves me then.”

“Oh, I’m looking forward to it,” Laura says. “I think a family reunion is exactly what my brother needs.”


	12. April 19th, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carry On Wayward Son By Neoni 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKvj12YTtI4
> 
> "Once I rose above the noise and confusion  
> Just to get a glimpse beyond the illusion  
> I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high  
> Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man  
> Though my mind could think I still was a mad man  
> I hear the voices when I'm dreamin', I can hear them say"
> 
> .

April 19th, 2019 

Talia Hale’s Estate  
Beacon Hills, California 

Derek doesn’t know what makes him do it, what makes him get in the car the morning after seeing his sister after nearly two years, after seeing Stiles after five years, and drive to his childhood home. All he knows is for the first time in a long time he is acutely aware of just how lost he feels, just how without an anchor or a home he is. 

He’d been avoiding his mother, avoiding his childhood home, avoiding the place that held so many memories. His mother had thrown countless parties, important social networking and fundraising functions for the CLP in her home while Derek was growing up. He’d met countless CLP senators, governors, and supreme court justices there as they plotted and raised money and strategized with his mother. Derek is an alpha, through and through. They can call him every name in the book: liar, coward, omega-deserter, but Derek has set his course, and he is not turning back. It doesn’t matter if the whole country doesn’t understand him. Derek has made his choice. Let the chips fall where they may. 

He feels his heart hammering as pulls into the impossibly long driveway that leads to his childhood home. Growing up, his mother was his hero, the strongest alpha presence in his life. Derek had spent his entire life watching his strong, fearless mother lead their family, lead their state, and help lead the CLP. He’d dreaded facing her after he’d declared for the TTF, knowing she wouldn’t understand, knowing he was willfully and effectively dismantling his mother’s entire political and personal legacy. But when the news had broken, Talia hadn’t been angry. She’d simply looked at her son with a deep, indefinable sorrow. Derek hadn’t been able to face her since. 

Derek walks up to the hauntingly familiar door, his breath fast in his chest. He reaches up to knock, but before he can, the door swings open and there his mother is, standing in front of him. Instantly, Talia’s eyes fill with tears, and Derek can’t stand the sight of his alpha mother, usually so stoic, crying at the sight of her son returning home after nearly two years. 

“Derek,” Talia says, throwing her arms around him. 

“Mom,” Derek says, breathing in the comforting home smell of his mother. 

They walk into the expansive kitchen and Talia has her personal assistant bring them tea. The stately alpha looks him up and down. “You don’t look very well, Derek.” The elder stateswoman observes. 

“I’m fine,” Derek says, sighing, both of his large hands cradling his mug. 

“It’s been quite a while,” Talia remarks, her green eyes glinting. “I’ve missed you.”

His mother’s words pierce Derek’s insides with a burst of nearly unbearable pain. He swallows, “I didn’t know… I didn’t know if you’d want to see me. After last time, I mean.” 

“Derek,” Talia says, her face knowing. “I’m not going to pretend I understand why you’re backing Dorf, but you’re my son.” She puts her hand on his. “You can always come home.” 

Derek feels emotion choke him and he pulls away from his mother, willing the tears back, “That’s not what Laura said.” 

“Laura is high strung,” Talia says. “When I am gone Laura will be the head of this family and that is a responsibility that has laid on her heavily since she was a little girl.” Talia gazes at Derek knowingly. “It really hurt her, you know.” She says. “When you repudiated Stiles. I think she felt like it was a personal failure on her part. Like she couldn’t keep the family together. I think she thinks if she could have gotten ahead of it, if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in being newly married she could have saved your relationship.” Talia looks solemn. “That she could have saved you.” 

“From what?” Derek laughs bitterly. “The TTF?” 

“Of course, Laura is angry about that,” Talia says evenly. “Dorf is nothing if not inflammatory, but it’s more than that.” She smiles sadly. “You haven’t been happy, Derek. We’re your family, we can tell. And we’re worried about you. Laura is worried about you.” 

“She has a funny way of showing it,” Derek scowls. “You know Stiles is working on Keane’s campaign with her?” 

“She did mention that to me, yes,” Talia says. “I’ve been trying to get her to bring him around the house for weeks now, but she won’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Derek asks his mother.

“I tried,” the older alpha says, knowingly. “You’re not answering my phone calls.” 

Derek shakes his head, feeling hot shame fill his body, unwelcome and unstoppable, “Look, I’m sorry.” The alpha’s voice hitches, just a little. “I just… I couldn’t hear it, not from you. Not from anybody.” 

Talia watches her son closely. “Derek, I may be a former CLP governor and a legacy member of the party, but I am your mother first and foremost.” Talia sighs, “You’re a grown man-- a grown alpha. The time when I could put you over my knee and lecture you is long past. But I would hope you would know exactly who you’re dealing with. Mason Dorf is a man who is loyal only to himself, who recognizes no law but his own, and who has absolutely no sense of integrity.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Derek asks, his eyes hard. 

“I think you’re a strong alpha male,” Talia says, leveling at her son. “Just as I raised you to be. And I think an alpha takes power where it is offered. I think Dorf offered you something he thought you couldn’t refuse, I think you weighed the risks and I think you made your decision. But I would hope any son of mine would ask himself if all the power in the world is worth your truth?” Talia looks evenly at Derek. “You’ve done quite well for yourself, Derek. Dorf, Kate, all the appearances. I guess I have taught you something about speaking to a base.” 

“So, you haven’t seen Stiles lately?” Derek asks, his voice low. 

“No,” Talia says. “But I’ve heard things.” 

“He’s on suppressants,” Derek states thickly, his jaw clenching. 

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Talia says and Derek eyes her, “Repudiation would only antagonize his anxiety and nerves, and Stiles had plenty of that to begin with.” 

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, his voice suddenly thick. And he is unable to look at his mother, “I know the first time I was tested as an alpha I failed.” Derek closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be the alpha you raised me to be.”

Talia frowns down at her son, “Is that what you think happened?”

Derek chokes, “That’s what I know happened.” 

Talia is quiet for a moment, “I don’t know what happened between you and Stiles, but I know he was very young and rough.” She sighs. “I don’t think either of you were kind to each other.” Talia frowns. “It’s been hard for him. He came up so rough.” 

“Yeah,” Derek says, “I know.” 

“He wasn’t easy to live with,” Talia muses, “I remember.”

“Anyone is easier than that bitch he’s with now,” Cora’s angry voice shoots through the kitchen like a missile as Derek’s younger sister walks into the room, her omega, Heather, at her side. 

“Cora,” Talia’s voice is a warning. 

Cora’s wild curls are pulled up in a bandana, and Derek’s heart twists a little as his kid sister glares up at him, her green eyes flashing. The small alpha wrenches open the refrigerator and pulls out an icy water bottle, handing it to Heather. 

“I thought I smelled conservative whore in here.” Cora says. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Heather is beautiful brunette omega wearing a floral Dolce and Gabbana dress. Cora leans against her taller omega easily, her chin jutting up at Derek impertinently

“I’m visiting our mother,” Derek growls.

“Oh, now you give a shit about the family,” Cora says, turning to wind one of Heather’s silky locks through her fingers. “Where was that concern during your last election?” 

“Cora-” Talia walks over to her youngest daughter. 

“No!” Coral says, glaring at Derek. “Fuck him! Fuck him for thinking he can just come back in here after two years and act like everything is fine!” 

“Cora Jane, you are the one who had returned every Christmas and birthday gift I’ve sent you,” Derek says, looking down at his fiery little sister. “You’re the one who won’t return my texts or my calls.” 

“Can you fucking blame me?” Cora says, throwing her hands up. “You repudiated Stiles!” 

“And you were fourteen when it happened!” Derek yells back. “I can’t see how you gave a shit-” 

“You know how much I loved Stiles, Derek,” Cora says. “You know how close we were. All of us were. Fuck. You were my hero. I always wanted an omega just like Stiles when I was growing up-- I wanted to be just like you two. And now this? You’re with fucking Kate Argent and you've campaigned for fucking Dorf?!” Cora crosses her arms, “How could you?” 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Derek says, his jaw clenched. “You clearly believe everything Laura tells you, hook, line, and sinker.” 

“At least Laura gives a shit about people,” Cora says, “You think Dorf does?” 

“Dorf was elected just like every other president in history,” Derek says evenly. “He’s the President whether you like it or not. And while his personality may leave a lot to be desired, some of his policies-” 

“Are still complete bullshit,” Cora finishes. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you used to be mom’s favorite.” Cora tugs on her omega’s hand, “I need to get the fuck out of here.” 

Cora and Heather exit out to the tennis courts and Derek folds his arms petulantly. He looks at his mother and sighs. “And you wonder why I don’t come home more often?” 

“She’s upset,” Talia says. “She misses you.” 

Derek frowns, “I take it she’s been spending a lot of time with Laura and Kent.” 

“When she’s not in school, yes,” Talia nods. 

“Shit, the last time we were all in the same room together was at the Munich Ball,” Derek says, referring to the largest, most sensationalized annual charity event in Europe. “I think the assistants scheduled it so we wouldn’t meet on the red carpet. She didn’t talk to me any of the three nights. None of them did.” 

“Mmm,” Talia says, looking sad. “I assume you’re going again this year. Did you book the jet?” 

“Laura and Kent have been using Hale Force One for the Keane campaign,” Derek sighs. “Boyd and I have been using one of Hale Industries' jets.” 

“I assume you’re bringing the actress as your date?” Talia asks. 

“If you mean, Kate, then no,” Derek says. “She has a shoot to do in New York that week. I’m going solo.” 

“Well, we could all fly together,” Talia offers, with a small smile. 

“Why? So we can end up like the Kennedy’s?” Derek asks. 

“That’s not funny,” Talia Hale frowns. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, “But I don’t think you want Laura and I together in an enclosed space right now.” 

“Perhaps you’re right,” Talia says wistfully. She turns to Derek, looking down at him, her eyes sharp. “Well, we have a few more months to figure it out. Maybe things will be better then.” 

“Yeah,” Derek says, not believing a word of it. “Maybe.” 

.


	13. April 19th, 2019

April 19th, 2019  
Beacon Hills, California

Derek gets behind the wheel of his black Bently Continental GT, pulling out of his mother’s driveway and immediately gets Boyd on Bluetooth, pulling a pair of Oliver Peoples sunglasses.

“Where the hell have you been?” Boyd’s rich voice comes through speakers almost instantly. “I’ve been calling you for about three hours, man! You can’t just go MIA on a campaign like that.”

Derek frowns. “I went to go see my mother.”

“Well, shit,” Boyd says. “How was it?”

“About how’d you’d expect,” Derek says easily.

“How long has it been?” Boyd asks.

“At least sixteen months,” Derek shrugs. “Maybe longer. I lost count.”

“Yeah,” Boyd says, and Derek can hear the disapproval in the other alpha’s voice. “You lost count.”

“Do yourself a favor,” Derek says. “Never break up with anyone your family likes way better than you.”

“They don’t like Stiles better than you,” Boyd huffs.

“Oh yeah?” Derek says.

“Well, if they do it’s nothing personal,” Boyd says. “Stiles is the type of guy everybody likes. You’re the type of guy everybody respects.”

“That bad, huh?” Derek asks.

“Look,” Boyd says, and Derek can tell he’s chewing on a wad of gum. “The thing is, you’ve always been the black sheep, Derek. I grew up with your family, man.” He sighs audibly through the speakers, “Now, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but your mom and Laura and Cora, they’ve always been way more into the whole public-service-social-justice thing than you. That’s just how it’s always been. Laura and Cora have hearts for the people-- you were always a businessman like your dad. More individualistic, more to yourself. You never wanted to go to town halls or rallies or stand onstage at the CLP National Convention like your sisters-- you just wanted to be left alone to read.” Boyd pauses. “And so I think when you brought home Stiles, when you proposed to this omega who was crazy about all that grassroots, protest, democratic-socialist stuff they’d been going on and on about for years, an omega who really had a heart for the people and who made you unbelievably happy into the bargain-- well, in some ways mating with Stiles was the most ‘Hale’ thing you’ve ever done.”

There’s a long pause.

“You had to know they would react like this, about Dorf,” Boyd says lowly. “I knew.”

There’s another long pause. And then, “I didn’t even consider it.” Derek says.

“I knew the moment you told me this was the direction you were going, Derek,” Boyd says. “I knew when you said the TTF was the party and Mason was your guy.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek asks.

“Derek,” Boyd says, his voice serious. “Other families can split between party lines and it’s one bad dinner. Not yours. Your mother kept an iron grip on California and the CPL for years and your grandad did it before her. For other families, politics is a topic of conversation, It’s your family business. It’s your family legacy. Your mother was a policy-maker. Your sister is a talking head. It’s the one thing your sister and you and I think about from the moment we get out of bed in the morning to the moment we go to sleep at night.”

“Well,” Derek says. “It didn’t use to be.”

“Well, you’re off the bench,” Boyd says. “It’s a little late to throw in the towel.”

“Who’s throwing in the towel?” Derek says lightly.

“Shit,” Boyd laughs. “Nobody here. God knows I’ve wanted to though.”

“I know,” Derek says, his voice turning serious. “I know that.” He swallows. “You were the only one who stood by me.”

“I was the only one you let stand by you,” Boyd corrects. There’s a long pause. “You were never submissive enough to truly get along with Laura, anyways. You never did well answering to any dominant alpha.”

“My mom thinks Laura takes responsibility for the repudiation,” Derek offers.

“Shit.” Boyd laughs. “Laura takes responsibility for the sun rising in the morning. You know how she and your mom are though.”

“How?” Derek asks.

“Where they come from nobody goes through a repudiation,” Boyd says. “It just isn’t done. My mom is the same way. They think repudiation is something that happens to alphas who rush into things too soon or are too stupid to understand real responsibility. It doesn’t happen to guys like us.” He pauses. “Laura needs to cut the shit with Stiles, though. She acts like she’s still responsible for him. I thought repudiation was supposed to stop all the biological instincts all the way up the food chain. She still acts like she’s his dominant alpha.”

“You can’t blame Laura for her protective instincts,” Derek sighs. “My family has never been known for letting go very well and Laura is a dog who will bark at a pine cone for six hours if she thinks she has to.”

“Still makes no fucking sense to me,” Boyd says. “I’ve never seen it like this before. She should have known better.”

“You think so?” Derek asks.

“Power is power, Derek. We’ve been raised our whole lives to think alphas take power where it’s given.” Boyd says.

“Do they?” Derek raises his eyebrows.

“Strong ones do,” Boyd says. “And you come from a family of strong alphas, man. They had to know when push came to shove with the way they raised you with Laura’s claws out all over the place and your mother driving you like the she-devil, herself, that sooner or later it wouldn’t be about the money, it would be about the power. ”

“This isn’t about power,” Derek swallows.

“Then why’d you do it, Derek?” Boyd asked, sighing. “Why did you willfully go against your family and everything and everyone I’ve ever seen you give two shits about?”

“Why did you let me?” Derek responds sounding tired.

“Because the way I saw it, there was a mother-fucking mad man at the helm of the country whether I liked it or not,” Boyd said. “And I realized there could either be a grown-up standing between him and the nuclear football or another sycophantic blowhard who could give a shit about this country and the people in it.”

“Hmm.” Derek says.

“That’s not why you did it?” Boyd grins.

“Not entirely,” Derek says. “But it did cross my mind.”

“Do tell.”

“I did it because I’m a man and I’m an alpha,” Derek says, his voice thick. “And because I don’t answer to anyone. Not my mom. Not my sister. Not Mason Dorf.” Derek clenches his jaw. “Because this isn't about them, it's about _my_ family. And because it doesn’t matter how miserable it makes _my_ family-- if I can protect him, I will.”

“Derek,” Boyd’s voice is soft. “Your family walked out the door five years ago, man.”

“I don’t see how that changes anything,” Derek says.

“I know you don’t,” Boyd says. There’s another long pause. “Derek, how big of a mess am I going to have to clean up this time?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek says.

“I need to know that you’re here for this fight,” Boyd says, his voice tense. “Your sister isn’t going to stop, man. Laura is relentless and I need to know you’re up for whatever bullshit she’s going to throw next.”

“Laura’s had over thirty years to come at me, Boyd,” Derek says. “I’m not afraid of her.”

“She’s not the one that scares me either,” Boyd sighs. “Let me know when you’re ready to get out of denial.”

Derek pauses. "You remember what my dad used to say the unofficial family motto was?"

Boyd laughs, "Of course I do. Hales don't get what's theirs. They get what's theirs and part of somebody else's." 

Derek nods. "Yeah. I think about that all the time." 

Boyd laughs, "I don't think your dad ever thought there'd be a time when two Hales were playing for opposite teams." 

"Maybe not," Derek says. "But I guess people change." 

Boyd sighs. "Maybe. But Hales don't."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Alert (sort of)
> 
> I just want to drop a quick note because the trajectory of the read that's going on is just not where it's going and I want to clarify for those who are looking. Firstly, I always try to stay psychologically honest with my characters. They may not act in ways that are right-- that's not the point. They act in ways that make sense to them given the data and perception they have at the time. Also, this fic is really less about what Derek did and the reasons he did it-- if you look closely, the characters have already discussed why Derek repudiated Stiles. They just haven't been explicit about how it went down yet. The crux of this fic really isn't what Derek did or why he did it. (Nobody was threatening or blackmailing-- I'm trying to keep Mason Dorf a figurehead a much as possible because I cannot write him without gagging.) Like it says in the summary-- this is about Stiles' secrets and what happens between two people that nobody else knows. (Well, spoiler alert: Boyd is the only other character than Stiles and Derek who knows.)


	14. April 20th, 2019

April 20th, 2019  
Early hours of the morning  
Stiles’ Apartment  
Beacon Hills, California

That night, for the first time in over a year, Stiles is visited by the ghost of Derek. He’s dreaming somewhere between the clouded haze of over-exhaustion and the watercolor of sensations of deep, unsettling sleep. And all of a sudden Derek is there. Derek, his alpha, as he was before he left Stiles, as he was before the harsh static and burning noises of Stiles’ childhood caught up with him and smothered the omega in a death-grip of blackness and pained apathy. Stiles can’t see the alpha, can’t see anything but the deepest velvet of black, but Derek’s familiar, strong, infinitely welcome grasp is pulling him to towards a solid, warm chest, encasing Stiles fully and completely in an embrace that makes every clenched and work-tensed muscle in the omega’s neck and back release in one great exhale. Derek’s perfect, recognizable scent is settling over Stiles’ whole being and he can feel his body awaken to it, repeating a pattern of arousal he first learned under Derek’s hands as a teenager. And all of a sudden Stiles is back with Derek, really truly there with his best friend, with the one person he put all the trust he had left in. And the relief euphoric and all-consuming.

Derek’s lips, warm and demanding are sliding down, over Stiles’ ear, Derek’s teeth scraping enticingly over the sensitized flesh of Stiles’ neck and under his jaw. He can feel Derek nipping at the delicate skin where his neck meets his shoulder, laving his way back up and over Stiles’ accursed mating scar. The alpha swirls his tongue roughly over the uneven ridges and groves of the keloid scar, and Stiles’ can feel himself gasp audibly at the singular sensation as his core tightens and heat runs up his back and through his groin. He hungrily drives himself against the alpha, seeking the familiar, comforting sensation of Derek rubbing against him feeding his arousal in their favored rhythm. Above all, he wants his alpha’s touch, Derek’s hands on him, working him deftly and expertly, knowing his skin in the way only Derek ever did.

Stiles’ whole body feels flush with blood and fire, every nerve worked over by Derek’s strong hands. He wants to come apart under Derek. He wants to be broken down and stripped bare and held close and made safe again. And for one insane, terrible moment, Stiles forgets everything and thinks he would do anything to have this again.

Just as suddenly the old Derek is gone, his hands and heat and scent vanished into the night leaving Stiles desperate and lost. Stiles’ opens his eyes into the shadows of his empty bedroom, and he takes a sharp breath in. All he can smell is iron and bile.

The orange light from the hall is glaring and unrestful, but Stiles won’t sleep in a darkened room anymore. The loss of ghost Derek still echoing acutely in his unsatisfied and unsettled body, Stiles props himself up on the edge of his bed and allows himself to go there for the first time in months.

He closes his eyes and sees Derek as he was the day he told Stiles they were over, the day Derek said goodbye. He sees every detail of his Derek’s face. The alpha had been suffering, that much was apparent, but it was a closed pain. It was pain Stiles’ wasn’t meant to see, wasn’t meant to understand. It had been obvious to Stiles, even then this wasn’t a pain Stiles was going to be there to see Derek work through, this wasn’t something Stiles was going to fix. Instantly Stiles is reliving the fear, reliving the sharp, falling feeling that came immediately from Derek’s words. He can feel the panic quickly racing through his body, as his mind tried to keep up with what exactly his alpha was telling him. That they’re over. That the life they had been planning together was never going to happen. That Stiles’ whole world was about to change.

This is and not the ghost Derek is Stiles’ Derek, the omega tells himself. This is the alpha he has to remember, has to keep sharp in his mind like a cherished and protected memory, because this is the other Derek is gone and all that remains is this Derek.

And it’s Stiles' fault.

He’s been over the autopsy of their relationship a hundred thousand times looking for when the prognosis turned from curable to terminal. If he had been better-- if he had been a stronger person he would have kept it together. Or if he had been a better omega he would have at least tried harder. He wouldn’t have let himself fall into this hole, he wouldn’t have let himself succumb to the weakness of his own suffocating pain and fear. If he had been just a little less selfish, fed his own demons less, learned how to be better… or at least learned how to hide it better.

Maybe Derek would have kept him. Maybe Stiles could have kept from having to move Derek from the one person in his life in the ‘safe’ category to ‘unsafe’ category with everyone and everything else.

Stiles opens his eyes. He cannot let himself go there again. This is useless and it has nothing to do with reality as it is at this moment in his life today. Stiles has clawed his way back from the darkness, has picked himself up from the brink of hell and is still here, still trying to carve out a life. And he did it the way he had to-- without Derek. This conceivably meant he didn’t need Derek for anything else either. And Stiles knows, he may not have believed it yesterday and he may not believe it today, but one day he will look back and not feel loss and regret. One day he will believe this was all for the best.

Stiles leans over to his nightstand and pulls out an orange pill bottle. His hands shake uncontrollably as he fishes out four large pills and swallows them dry. Then he sits in the half-light waiting for numbness to take him over and make this bearable.


	15. September 27th, 2012

September 27, 2012  
Derek and Stiles’ Estate  
Beacon Hills, California 

Stiles opens his eyes and groggily looks up from where his head is resting comfortably nestled on Derek’s warm, steady chest to see his alpha gazing at him sleepily. Their bed is blissful and the two of them are a naked tangle of limbs, their bodies pressed together peacefully in the sleeping position that’s become habitual over the past six months. Stiles wakes up this way, in this exact position every morning. And every morning the alpha is gazing down at him, his alpha instincts having woken Derek right as his omega begins to stir from sleep.

“Morning,” Stiles murmurs, completely unwilling to move from their heavenly cocoon of Egyptian cotton blankets. 

Derek brushes a kiss over Stiles’ brow in response pulls them both up into a half-sitting position, resting against a downy barrier of pillows. He maneuvers Stiles’ relaxed form easily until the omega is half resting on his lap, Stiles’ head resting easily on Derek’s shoulder. Derek’s large hands comb through Stiles’ unruly hair. 

“Damn,” Derek mutters groggily, pulling Stiles’ closer. He rubs his face down, in the crook of Stiles’ neck. “Don’t make me get up.”

Stiles yawns, “You have work and I have class.” 

“Literally the only reason I became the boss is so I could spend an entire weekday in bed naked with my omega if I wanted to,” Derek grouches in between licks and kisses up Stiles’ neck, over his mating scar. 

“Well I’m not going to explain to my professor that I wasn’t in class because my alpha doesn’t recognize any authority but his own,” Stiles laughs. 

He shivers as Derek nips his mating scar in response, just scraping the skin with his teeth. The omega can feel his body growing hot and interested and infinitely sensitive under his alpha's attention. Can feel the alpha growing hard against his thigh. Stiles lets out an unintentional sigh as Derek works his mouth down the sensitive skin of Stiles’ shoulder. He takes one of Derek’s large hands and mouths at two of his thick, calloused fingers, swirling his tongue over them. Derek growls in response and gently pushes his fingers through Stiles’ now swollen lips, into his warm wet mouth. 

“If you keep that up,” Derek rasps in his ear, “I’m going to knot you right here and you’ll never make it to class.” Stiles’ spits Derek’s fingers out comically, and the alpha laughs, “I’m going to send one of the assistants to Costco today.” He says. “You need anything?” 

Stiles yawns again, “Pancakes and a puppy.” 

“Well, I can make you pancakes right now,” Derek grins, “But you’re going to have to give me more lead time on a dog.” 

“Fine,” Stiles sighs and rubs his eyes. “Man, I am so tired.” 

Derek leans over to the bedside table and grabs a bottle of water. He unscrews the cap and tips it to Stiles’ lips.

“You need to start getting more than five hours of sleep a night,” He clucks, looking concerned. 

Stiles shrugs, “I need to study.” 

“Saturday, then,” Derek says, putting the bottled water back on the bedside table. “I’ll work from home. You can nap on my lap.” 

Stiles sighs happily at the thought and snuggles in closer to Derek’s warmth. The thing he loves most in the world is when Derek stays home and works on the couch. The alpha pulls up a TV tray for his laptop and Stiles lays, stretched out with his head in Derek’s lap, his face pressed close to where Derek’s scent is the strongest, the most comforting. The alpha pulls the duvet off their bed and Stiles tucks himself under it. Derek types one-handed, his other hand stroking Stiles’ ear or massaging the omega’s neck with his strong fingers. It’s here where Stiles feels the safest, where he feels most content. It’s the only time Stiles really feels as though he may be able to let go, that he may be able at some point to learn how to be happy every day. It’s the only time he’s truly able to convince himself the past doesn’t matter, that all that matters is that his alpha is here and his alpha will take care of whatever comes their way. 

“You sure you can’t miss class?” Derek mutters, kissing Stiles’ brow. 

“You know I can’t,” Stiles snorts. 

“You going to come to my office after class then?” Derek asks, looking down at him mischievously. 

Stiles groans, “Dude, I am not going to blow you in your office while you’re on the phone with China again.” 

Derek grins wolfishly, “That was actually the best idea we’ve ever had.” 

“No,” Stiles shakes his head, laughing. “The best idea we ever had was when we had Laura’s Bugatti repainted neon pink while she was at work.” He pauses considering. “Or maybe the time we locked the pig in Cora’s room.” 

“That one actually kind of backfired on us,” Derek disagrees. “She really likes that pig.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles’ laughs. “Who knew your mom would be so cool with that?” 

“So is that a ‘no’ to sucking me off at the office after class?” Derek asks, smirking. “You know you loved it.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. Honestly, he loves when Derek puts him on his knees. There’s something about being completely within alpha’s control, tasting the heated flesh of Derek sliding through his sensitized lips, the alpha’s strong hands wound in his hair that completely turns off Stiles’ brain, effectively clearing it of every anxious worry and racing thought. Derek knows this calms Stiles, knows it causes him to let go and relax like little else. Stiles has nearly permanent bruise marks on his knees. As if reading his thoughts the alpha reaches under the covers and gently caresses one of Stiles’ knees. 

“The problem with that, Derek,” Stiles says. “Is I end up reeking and everyone in your goddamn office knows I’ve been blowing their boss.” 

“Yeah, they do,” Derek growls, his eyes darkening. “Last time everyone knew when they saw us leave I’d had you in there, begging for it and that I was about to go home and finish you off good.” 

Stiles looks up at Derek, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Annoying,” He says, laughing. “You are annoying.” 

“But I’m not wrong,” Derek says, gathering Stiles up closer. “Do you love me?” 

“You know I do,” Stiles snorts. “You have a perfectly good memory.”

“Mmm,” Derek sighs, nuzzling Stiles’ ear. “Tell me.” 

Stiles sighs. “Do you know how much I love you?” 

“How much?” Derek asks, and Stiles can hear the smile in the alpha’s voice. 

Stiles looks up at him, sideways, “So much I am disgusted with myself and this whole thing grosses me out.” Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know why you’re always making me say it. You know I love you.” 

“But every time I hear it, it makes it a little more real,” Derek says, kissing Stiles, his lips lingering at the corner of Stiles’ mouth. “It makes you a little more mine.” He feels Stiles’ smile rather than sees it. “Go get my pants,” He says to the omega. 

“Fuck you,” Stiles says, laughing. “You go get your pants.” 

“Just go get them,” Derek says. 

Stiles shoots Derek a look, “Fine.” he acquiesces, climbing out of bed. He can feel the alpha’s intense gaze run down his naked body as he leans down to pick up the dark jeans where they fell forgotten on the floor sometime last night, mid-grope. He tosses them to Derek and slides back into bed. “You only make me go get things so you can watch me walk around naked.”

Derek grins, “Problem?” 

Stiles rolls his eyes again. Derek is rummaging through the pants, trying to find something. Finally, the alpha fishes out a black velvet box from his pocket and snaps it open. Inside is an Edwardian ring, the huge Ascher-cut diamond sparkling brilliantly from its black velvet resting place. 

Derek looks at Stiles. “I’ve been carrying this around for months.” 

Stiles stares at the ring. Finally, he tears his eyes away and swallows audibly. “I know,” He says. 

Derek smiles, “And you didn’t say anything?” 

Stiles smirks, “Oh, I’m sorry? Was that my responsibility? I didn’t realize that was my job in this.” 

Derek ignores this cheek. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to propose,” He says, “since you don’t do well with romantic gestures.” 

“This is true,” Stiles laughs. 

“And then I was wondering if I even need to propose because you know this is it and I know this is it, so it seemed sort of redundant to even ask,” Derek muses. “But then I thought my mother and Laura will kill both of us if we don’t give them a chance to plan some huge DC wedding and invite whatever half of the legislative branch they’re not currently at war with.” 

“That sounds like a three-ring circus.” Stiles makes a face. “We should just elope.” 

“Yeah, I thought about that too,” Derek says. “But then I thought I kind of like the idea of everyone in our world watching you walk down the aisle while Cora pretends she’s not crying. I thought there might be something to the idea of showing everyone that you chose me, of hearing you swear it in front of everyone. Of having RBG marry us and it being published in every society page in the country. Everyone will know you're mine.” 

“That sounds like overkill,” Stiles snorts. He points to his scarlet mating scar. “News flash, genius- everyone already knows I’m yours. And if you get RBG to show up to our wedding, I’m going to marry her-- not you.” 

“I have no doubt you’d try,” Derek laughs. He leans down and nips Stiles’ mating scar. “But no. Mine.” 

“Okay,” Stiles smiles. “Yours.” 

“So are you going to let me put this on you?” Stiles looks up at Derek and sees all humor gone from the alpha’s face. He’s looking down at Stiles with such intensity and tenderness, and Stiles doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him in that way before. “Will you marry me?” 

Stiles swallows. “You were right,” he says when he finally finds his voice. “You didn’t need to ask me. This--” He looks at Derek, his wide eyes honest and somehow uncharacteristically soft. “This has already happened. The time when I could have turned back, turned away from you passed a long time ago.” Stiles almost can’t believe he’s saying these things aloud, admitting them to himself and to the alpha and it leaves him wrecked. “I can’t be without you.” He whispers this. “So I guess we’re getting married.” 

Derek presses him close and kisses him. “You,” the alpha says, his voice thick, “are the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” 

Stiles lets out a rueful laugh. “Spoken like a man who has been given everything since birth.” 

“And I haven’t deserved any of it,” Derek says, pressing his face against Stiles’ neck. “And I don’t deserve you. But I don’t care about the company or the houses or the cars or the power my family has-- all I need is you. You are the only thing that makes the rest of it worth anything.” 

Stiles presses himself close to his alpha, feeling his voice wash over him as Derek slips the ring on his finger. He closes his eyes and breathes in Derek’s scent, willing it to be a part of him forever. 

“Tell me you love me,” Derek murmurs in his ear. 

“I love you,” Stiles says, clinging closer to the alpha’s warmth. “Tell me I’m yours.” 

“You're mine,” Derek says. “Forever.” 

Stiles looks up into Derek’s eyes, “Forever?” He asks. 

Stiles grew up running away from foster homes, and sleeping on Scott’s couch. Everything has always been temporary. Everything has always come with strings. Nobody has ever said the word, ‘forever’ to him before now. 

“Forever,” Derek says kissing him. 

Somewhere in the background, a cellphone alarm goes off. 

“Aw shit,” Stiles cures, reluctantly pushing out of Derek’s arms. “I’m going to be late.” 

He jumps out of bed and begins to haphazardly pull on clothes, while simultaneously stuffing notebooks into his bookbag. 

“So, I’ll see you at my office?” Derek asks, somewhere behind him. 

“I guess,” Stiles laughs. 

“Okay good,” Derek says, getting out of bed and stretching. “Then we’ll come home and I’ll knot you into the mattress.” He comes behind Stiles, gripping the omega hips and kissing his neck. 

“Dude, I have homework tonight,” Stiles says. 

“You can’t do homework while I knot you?” Derek asks, laughing. 

“As you probably don’t recall,” Stiles says, “The last time we tried that it didn’t work because somebody couldn’t keep his tongue out of my mouth.” 

“That isn’t the only thing I can’t keep my tongue out of,” Derek growls. 

“You are the worst,” Stiles says, side-stepping Derek’s grasp. 

“Well when we go over to my mom’s for dinner on Sunday we can tell her and Laura they can start planning our wedding,” Derek says, grabbing Stiles' laptop for him and adding it to the bag. 

“Okay,” Stiles agrees. “But for now, pancakes?” 

“Right, pancakes,” Derek says, “I’m on it.” 

And just like that, on an ordinary morning, just like every other morning in their shared life, Stiles was engaged.


	16. April 19th, 2019

April 19th, 2019  
Derek’s Estate  
Beacon Hill, California

After hanging up with Boyd, Derek opens the electronic gate to his house and pulls into his driveway. A familiar Blu Eleos Lamborghini Urus is parked up by his door. Derek opens the burnished metal garage door to the modern mansion with the click of a button and pulls his Bently into its familiar place. He walks through the pristine garage, into the house. 

He finds her on the second story of the house, in the master suite, rummaging through his large, walk-in closet. 

“Derek!” Kate smiles at him, running over to embrace him, kissing him on the cheek. 

Derek steps out of her embrace, not smiling. “How did you get in here?” 

“Boyd gave me a key,” Kate says. Upon taking in Derek’s expression she adds in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Don’t be mad at him. It’s really ridiculous I don’t have one, you know. And we’ve been talking.” 

“Oh yeah?” Derek is taking in the pile of clothes Kate has made on his bed and he isn’t happy. “What about?” 

“We think-- I mean-- Boyd and I think it’s time to go public,” Kate says, her face looking unnaturally bright as if she’s trying to put a positive spin on a natural disaster. 

Derek can feel himself fold his arms in front of his body, “About what?” 

“About us!” Kate gushes. “You can announce we’re officially a couple on my show! It’ll be a ratings bonanza. Great for the campaign! You know how well I play to the TTF base. The voters will love it.” She pauses. “Boyd agrees.” 

Derek frowns, “I don’t think I want to do that.” 

“Oh come on,” Kate says, walking over to him. “Derek, we’ve been together for two years now. When are you going to make it official?” She pauses, looking somber now. “It would be the right thing to do. For everybody.” 

Derek leans against the closet doorframe, his arms still folded. “I disagree,” he says. “I think the right thing to do would be to keep my personal life out of the campaign altogether.” He sighs. “And I’ve told you this before-- I don’t want a commitment like that. I’m in DC all of the time, I’m running a campaign and I’m still on the board of directors for Hale Industries. I’m not looking to take on the responsibilities of an omega.” 

Kate frowns, looking pained, “Derek, I’ve always told you, if I was your omega, I’d help take away stress, not add to it.” She looks at him appealingly, “We’re so perfect together. Don’t you understand that any alpha in the TTF would sell his soul for me?” 

“Kate,” Derek says, looking tired. “I’ve told you from the beginning that if you’re looking for an alpha to father your children, I’m not it.” He sighs, “I don’t want to hurt you. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.”

Kate has tears in her eyes now, she runs to him and puts her hands on his shoulders, “I know you’d regret it if you let this go, Derek. Nobody loves you like I do. Nobody wants you like I do. Your family doesn’t care about you at all. I’m the one who’s been helping with the campaign. I’m the one who stood by you and helped you get elected the first time.”

Derek feels guilt seep through him, “I know.” He says, resting his hands on hers. “You’ve been good to me.” 

“Then why do you want to close me out?” Kate says, looking up at him. 

“I don’t,” Derek sighs. “I’m just trying to be honest.”

“You’ll see, Derek,” Kate sniffs. “I make you happy. I’m perfect for you. You’ll see how I’m the one. If you’re not ready now, I respect that. I understand. I can wait.” 

Derek sighs. “You’re certainly better to me than I deserve.” He looks around the closet. “What are you doing in here?” 

Kate smiles, obviously certain of his forgiveness, “I’m making room for some of my stuff in your closet.” She frowns. “Do you ever even clean this place out? There’s so much in here that doesn’t even fit you.” She holds up a pair of charcoal grey Tom Ford pants. “These aren’t even your size.” She points to the bed. “I’ve got a whole pile of shirts and stuff out there that can’t possibly still fit you.” She grabs a Louis Vouitton messenger bag. “This is still filled with textbooks, looks like from undergrad.” 

Derek frowns, “I don’t want you touching anything in here.” He says angrily. “Just leave everything alone.”

“Derek,” She looks surprised, “I’m just trying to help you.” 

“I just--” Derek runs his fingers through his hair angrily. “I don’t like anybody in my closet. I don’t even let the cleaning staff in here. I don’t want anyone touching anything.” 

Kate frowns, looking disappointed, “I’m didn’t know. I’ll put everything back.” 

“Don’t--” Derek sighs, “Don’t touch anything. I’ll do it.” He shakes his head. “I’m not mad. I’m just… I don’t want anybody in here.” 

When Kate finally leaves, Derek walks back up to his bedroom and picks up every article of clothing she’s piled on his bed. He smells every one carefully before putting it back on a hanger and tucking it in the back of his closet.


	17. April 20th, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because of You by Kelly Clarkson
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCkOlbL_WVs
> 
> “I watched you die  
> I heard you cry every night in your sleep  
> I was so young  
> You should have known  
> Better than to lean on me”

April 20th, 2019  
Early hours of the morning  
Derek’s Estate  
Beacon Hills, California

Derek jerks awake suddenly, his heart racing, alpha adrenaline coursing through his body, the hormone preparing him in an ancient primordial way to fight, to protect his omega at all cost. In one moment of deaf insanity, Derek rips the bedclothes off himself, clawing through them like a madman, trying to find the place where he’s positive Stiles is lying in the throes of a nightmare hurt and needing him.

And then Derek freezes, panting and gasping great gusts of air, remembering with a sickening clarity that Stiles might as well be a million miles away. Even if the omega is crying out for him, Derek isn’t close enough to hear his call. The realization hits Derek with a fresh wave of horror and for a moment all he can smell in the darkness is iron and bile and death.

Derek gets out of bed with the heaviness of a man who’s spent the last five years of his life carrying around a corpse with him everywhere he goes. He walks into the master bathroom, wearing only loose sweatpants and flips on the light. The harsh light of the LED bulbs flood Derek’s eyes, momentarily blinding him. He leans over, splashing water on his face, trying to clear his head. Derek straightens, staring at his own reflection, trying to get his breathing to steady, trying to get his own alpha instincts under control, back within some grasp of reality.

But his body aches. Every muscle, every bone, every ligament, and tendon is filled with a deep, hollow longing, and for a moment Derek doesn’t know how or if he’s ever going to get it together and he’s afraid again.

He’s not sure what makes him do it, but staring at his haunted reflection in the mirror he turns around slowly, looking at the skin and muscles of his bare back. For one deranged moment, he watches his skin turn a translucent green, and he can see every blue vein in his back. The scent of iron and acid and bile is suddenly so overwhelming Derek thinks he’s going to be sick.

Instantly he’s transported back in time and he can see another bare back, an omega’s back, in front of him, lying prone and helpless and heavy on the oriental carpet. He can recall the memory perfectly, rewatching the scene through his eyes in clear, lucid images. He walks over to the body and sees the white, translucent face, the half-closed eyes staring, unseeing and unfocused into nothingness. He can see the white froth coming out of the blue lips. He can hear himself screaming.

_“Dad! Dad!”_

He can feel his father’s cold, clammy skin under his ten-year-old fingers as he desperately tries to get a response from his father’s body, but his dad isn’t moving. And all of a sudden Laura is there, her fifteen-year-old face white and panicked, and she’s ripping off their dad’s shirt. Derek hadn’t known it at the time, but she’d been looking for signs of how far the drugs had progressed, how bad things were. Their father’s back had been almost transparent, the black veins clearly visible through the sickly, pale green flesh, the sight more gruesome and horrific and disturbing than anything Derek had ever seen before. Derek’s mind had fought to conceptualized the sight of his father lying like a dead thing on the floor of their family library. And Laura is screaming for their mother who is far way in DC, who is unable to hear the cries of her children and smell the scent of iron and bile and acid on her omega. Behind the siblings, Derek’s nanny is frantically calling 911.

The paramedics and police officers had taken their dad away and stabilized him. Derek hadn’t been allowed to go with them. Laura had come back late at night and come into his room where he’d been lying awake worrying and trying desperately not to cry because his father had always told him alphas shouldn’t do that. He’d crawled into Laura’s arms, even though he was too old to let his sister baby him anymore.

“Is Dad going to be okay, Laura?” He’d asked.

And Laura had smiled down at him, brave and strong, even at fifteen. “Of course,” She’d said. “It was just an accident. The doctor just gave Dad the wrong dose of medicine. It won’t happen again now that they’ve got it figured out.” She’d soothed his hair back. “Dad is going to be just fine, I promise.”

To this day it had been the only time Laura had ever lied to him. Yes, their dad had been okay that night. And yes he’d been back laughing with them and cooking them dinner and helping them with their homework, but ten months later, when Talia was at another DC fundraiser, it had happened again, this time when Derek and Laura had been at school. This time Dr. Reve Hale hadn’t been fine. This time Derek had been eleven and he’d never seen his father alive again.


	18. May 3rd, 2019

May 3rd, 2019  
L & L Consulting Headquarters  
Beacon Hills, California

Lydia stops right outside Keane’s office to adjust the black leather belt of her ivory Yves Saint Laurent Knit Flutter dress, before stepping inside and closing the door behind her, locking it. Jared looks up at her from behind his desk, his sport coat draped over the back of his desk chair, the arms of his blue shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“We need to talk,” Lydia says, a meaningful look in her eyes. She takes the red file folder from under her arm a slides it across his desk to the beta purposefully. “I was auditing numbers on that thumb drive you gave me and I came across this.”

Jared opens the folder up and sees a printout of a spreadsheet he’d made times, dates, and pictures in perfect rows.

_“May 20th, 2011 - Stiles graduates valedictorian of Beacon Hills High School Class of 2011_

_August 18th, 2011 - Stiles enrolls on a full academic scholarship at UC Berkeley, Journalism and Political Science Double Major_

_September 9th, 2011 - Picture from Vernon Boyd’s Facebook showing Derek and Boyd at a bar in Berkley, Derek’s arm around the waist of a young-looking Stiles_

_October 2011 - March 2012 Various pictures from Laura Hale, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, and Vernon Boyd’s social media pages showing Stiles and Derek hamming it up for the camera at various restaurants, theatres, charity events, and Talia and Laura’s houses._

_March 21st, 2012 - Derek and Stiles’ now-archived Facebook pages show them as ‘in a relationship’_

_March 2012 - September 2012 - Various pictures of Stiles and Derek from the above mentioned social media accounts all featuring Stiles with an enormous, fiery red mating scar._

_September 30th, 2012 - Laura’s Facebook page post: a heartfelt message about how happy she is about her brother’s engagement. The included photo is of Laura, Kent, a young-looking Cora, Talia, Derek, and Stiles at Talia’s house. Stiles is wearing an enormous heirloom ring, both arms wrapped around Derek with the alpha looking down at him adoringly._

_October 7th, 2012 - The engagement announcement from the New York Times and several other clipping from society pages. In the engagement photo Derek and Stiles smile at the camera from somewhere in Napa, Stiles’ hand, the enormous ring prominently displayed, rests on Derek’s chest._

_April 2013 - According to social media posts from other students, Stiles drops out of UC Berkeley_

_May 18th, 2013 - Derek Hale legally files Repudiation paperwork in Berkley, California._

_June 2013 - Stiles and Derek both take down all their social media accounts. What little is still accessible is archived._

_July 13th, 2013 - A grainy photo from Scott McCall’s Facebook page shows Stiles at the McCall residence sitting on the end of a crowded couch with Scott’s cousins and Allison, Scott’s omega. Stiles looks impossibly thin and has a huge, black bloch of a scar on his neck._

_September 2013 - Stiles moves to Seattle where employment records show he works painting houses during the day and waits tables at night._

_August 16th, 2014 - Laura Hale is announced as a new host for The View._

_August 30th, 2014 - A picture of Laura, Kent, Derek, and the other View hosts, including Kate Argent, at an event at Catch LA._

_December 20th, 2015 - Derek Hale declares his intent to run for senate in 2016 as a TTF candidate._

_January 1st, 2016 - A photo from the society pages of Derek Hale and Mason and Andreja Dorf at a New Year’s party at Mar-A-Lago Club in Palm Beach, Florida._

_November 2nd, 2016 – Mason Dorf is elected 45th president of the United States under the Traditionalists for Thriving Families Party_

_November 2nd, 2016 - Derek Hale is elected to the US Senate under the Traditionalists for Thriving Families Party_

_November 28th, 2017 - Strained Thanksgiving photo of Laura, Kent, Cora, Talia, Derek and Kate Argent at Talia’s house. This is the last holiday photo to include Derek._

_August 2018 - Stiles moves back to Beacon Hill, California_

_September 2019 - Stiles enrolls at St. Cecelia's University for Omegas”_

Jared up from the spreadsheet and looks back at Lydia, his face impassive _._

Lydia sits down in the chair in front of his desk and crosses her shapely legs, peering at him. “I’m trying to figure out if this is politically prudent or creepy.” She says.

“And?” The beta asks.

“I’ve come to the conclusion it’s both,” Lydia says simply. “But I’m wondering-- did you not think we would vet the situation? I’m not sure exactly what you’re looking for. Laura and I were there. We lived this. Boyd is an old friend of the family. He’s running Derek’s campaign. He was there through all of this too. You know this-- you have the pictures to prove it.” She looks pointedly at Jared. “There’s nothing politically viable here. So, the question is, what are you looking for, Jared?”

Keane looks up at Lydia, his face thoughtful. “He won’t talk about it, you know.” He finally says. “Barely will acknowledge it even happened.”

“Stiles, you mean?” Lydia says. “I’m sure he has his reasons. He always does.”

Jared swallows, he eyes the alpha carefully. “You know I’m in love with him, right?”

“Trust me--” Lydia snorts, “I’ve known you were in love with him before you knew you were in love with him.”

Jared sighs. “I’m a beta.”

“Yes,” Lydia agrees, a knowing look in her eyes. “You are.”

“And he wasn’t just with an alpha,” Keane says. “His ex-mate is the most alpha guy I’ve ever seen.”

“Derek certainly is old school,” Lydia agrees.

“I just don’t see it,” Keane says shaking his head. “Stiles is such an omegaist. He’s so liberated. What was he doing with that guy?”

Lydia gazes back at Keane and her eyes are both factual and sad. “Of course Stiles is all of that. He’s brilliant and headstrong and a bit unpredictable. But don’t let that fool you.” She nods, her face serious. “Stiles isn’t like the rest of us. He had it rough growing up. I don’t know what happened to his parents, but I do know his extended family refused to take him when he was born. Stiles was in and out of various foster homes for his entire childhood, and I don’t think he was ever placed with responsible adults. He once told me he didn’t think he was ever on anybody’s priority list as a kid. Didn’t think it was normal for anybody, let alone an alpha, to really care about him until the Hales.” She shakes her head. “Their bond was the strongest, most co-dependent thing I’ve ever seen. And that isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

Jared is quiet, finally, he levels his gaze at Lydia, “Was Derek Hale abusive?”

Lydia sighs. “Betas don’t get it. There is always an undertone of dominance and submission to an alpha/omega relationship that just isn’t there in a beta one. Betas value equal partnership and shared responsibility. They think that is the only way to be healthy. Omegas aren’t like betas.” She cuts Jared off before he can even begin, “I know that isn’t politically correct, but it’s true. Omegas are flighty. They’re just naturally more anxious. They need stability, companionship, routine. They need an anchor in life and they only thrive in supportive, nurturing environments. And alphas? Well, we don’t feel fulfilled unless we have someone to give that to. That level of control scares betas, but it’s natural to us.”

Jared shakes his head. “I don’t believe anyone is defined by their gender. And I know Stiles isn’t.”

Lydia looks sad, her green eyes filled with depth and pain. “He really loved Derek, Jared.”

“So, I don’t get it,” Keane says. “One moment they’re taking vacations in Napa and living together and pranking his family and the next-- Derek files for repudiation.” Jared sighs. “I just don’t understand how you go from this--” He points to a picture from Laura’s Facebook of Derek and Stiles napping together after a Christmas dinner on Talia’s couch. “To repudiation. Just like that.”

“Well,” Lydia says, reasonably. “The answer is, of course, it didn’t happen just like that.”

Jared looks back at her, his attention clearly peaked. “You don’t think so?”

“I know so,” Lydia says. “I was there. They were engaged and we were happy. Looking forward to the wedding. Everything seemed perfect. And then Stiles,” she sighs. “Well, he starts to change. Derek starts telling Laura he’s worried. Stiles is growing distant. He’s skipping class. He’s not eating. And Derek keeps trying to get through but Stiles just… well, all of a sudden he seemed so angry. And Laura keeps telling Derek he needs to try harder, to be better. And Stiles just keeps getting thinner and thinner and we’re seeing less and less of him. Derek starts withdrawing as well, and Laura is worried and Derek won’t pick up the phone.”

Lydia sighs. “It all came to a head in Munich at the Munich Ball 2013. We were all there, we go every year.” The alpha sits back, remembering. “We got back to the hotel suite and Stiles fainted. He’s okay, but the next thing I know Laura and Derek are in one of the bedrooms and they are in a full-out brawl. I’m talking a primordial, knock-down, drag-out alpha fight, the kind that almost never happens anymore. Both of them are at each other’s throats and Laura’s in full Versace. At the end of it, Derek had knocked out two of her teeth and Laura had bitten his hand so hard she broke some of his bones. I got a black eye trying to get in between them. It only stopped when Kent and Stiles came into the room and pulled them off each other. Laura’s gown was almost ripped clean off her, and there’s blood everywhere. Derek is clinging to Stiles, bleeding all over his white shirt, Stiles trying to calm him down.” Lydia sighs. “When we got back to the states Derek stopped talking to the family completely and a few weeks later, he filed for repudiation.”

Keane looks dumbstruck. He finally finds his voice. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Lydia looks shrewd, “Because I’m warning you not to bring up this dirty laundry. It isn’t worth it. Everyone has moved past it and it needs to stay in the past. For Stiles, for Laura, and for your campaign.”

“Lydia,” Keane looks at Lydia deliberately, his voice changing slightly. “What are the chances of Derek recalling Stiles?”

“Zero,” Lydia says definitely. “The thing you need to know about Derek is he’s strong-willed to the point of being an asshole. Actually, both he and Stiles are-- it’s the reason they even worked in the first place. He doesn’t apologize and he doesn’t deviate from his course. So, whatever the hell is going on in Derek’s mind, I know he won’t recall Stiles.” She shoots Keane a look. “But that doesn’t mean you should goad him about this. I’m warning you now it wouldn’t be prudent for this campaign.”

“I wouldn’t do that to Stiles,” Jared says.

“I know,” Lydia nods, looking tired.

“So are you going to mention this to Laura,” Jared asks, holding up the red file folder.

“No,” Lydia says. “I love Laura, but she’s fucked in the head when it comes to Stiles. I’ve seen her with Kent and Heather and she still acts like Stiles is one of her’s. I’m not going to open that can of worms.”

“Well,” Jared says. “I guess we understand each other, then?”

Lydia cocks her head. “Be careful, Jared. You’re walking a fine line here. Just promise me you’ll be careful?”

Jared smiles. “I wouldn’t have gotten this far if I wasn’t careful.”


	19. May 8th, 2019

May 8th, 2019  
Laura and Kent’s Estate   
Beacon Hills, California

Jared walks up to the intimidating doors of Laura’s Tuscan-style mansion, completely unable to ignore the hideous neon-pink Bugatti parked in the roundabout. He rings the bell and a personal assistant answers the door only to be superseded by a smiling Kent Hale.

“I got this, Brittany,” the omega says, pushing past his wife’s assistant and opening one of the doors. “Come on in, Jared. It’s good to see you, man.” 

Jared steps into the grand, marble foyer, taking in the double staircases and the hanging gold chandelier. Kent Hale is a tall omega with long, shaggy blond waves, a crooked nose, and a charming smile. He’s dressed immaculately in a navy Armani suit with a black shawl collar. Keane can’t help but notice the delicate, carmine imprint of Laura’s teeth poking out over his jacket. Where Stiles’ scar in pictures always looks like a bloody, gaping lesion, save for the one picture Keane has seen where it looked like a black gun-shot wound, Kent’s mating scar is as exacting and deliberate as Laura, herself. The omega smells strongly of Laura’s signature blood and figs scent with the barest hint of campfire smoke lying underneath.

Keane leans over to hug Kent, only to have the omega throw up both his hands. 

“It isn’t you, man,” Kent’s smile is easy as he taps crooked his nose. “But my alpha is a little nuts about scent contamination, you know.” 

“I haven’t seen that with other alphas,” Keane observes. “I mean, most omegas touch other people.” 

“Yeah,” Kent shrugs. “It’s a Hale thing. First thing Cora makes Heather do when she comes home from her internship is shower.” He pauses. “They’re all a little paranoid. Because of their dad, you know?” 

Jared can’t help himself from asking, “Was Derek like that?” 

Kent studies the beta for a moment before smiling again, “Derek was the worst I’d ever seen. He has the strongest nose.” Kent laughs. “And the biggest ego. Wouldn’t let Stiles within a city block of contamination.” 

Jared makes a face. “That sounds awful.” 

“Well, Stiles doesn’t like anybody touching him anyways,” Kent laughs. “Makes him nervous. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. Stiles is one quirky dude. You’ve never seen anyone who hates airplanes more. He’s actually the reason Talia bought Hale Force One, did you know that? Stubborn thing wouldn’t take it though. Said private jets were too bad for the environment.” 

Kent leads Jared up the stairs and into a spare bedroom. There’s a black Armani garment bag lying on the bed. Jared drops his briefcase on the bed. 

“Laura picked out your suit, herself,” Kent says, smiling. He has the barest hint of a Texan accent. He wears a ruby and diamond engagement ring with a gold wedding band. It glints in the light like a treasure from some bygone monarchy. 

“That was hardly necessary,” Keane says. 

“This isn’t strictly a partisan event,” Kent says, sitting easily on the edge of the bed, “But there’s always a lot of donors at the Kingsley-Hall Benefit and they need to take you seriously.” 

“I need Armani to be taken seriously?” Keane snorts. 

“Well, Derek will be there and he favors Tom Ford,” Kent says with a wink. “Laura wanted you to stand out.” 

“Is Stiles coming?” Keane says, unzipping the garment bag to reveal a sleek black tuxedo. 

“Nah,” Kent says. “He’s going to meet us at the restaurant with Scott and Melissa. I think he’s had enough of Laura dressing him like a doll.” Kent pulls off his jacket and carefully folds it over a chair “Shit-- it’s hot tonight.” 

Jared’s briefcase slides off the bed with an unceremonious plop sending papers all over the place. Kent bends down to pick them up, Jared at his side. The omega looks at one of the pages, his eyebrows raised. 

“Reading up on repudiation law?” He asks, handing the paperwork back to Jared. 

“Uh, yeah,” Keane says. “I’ve never really looked at it before now.” 

“Well, it’s pretty much useless,” Kent says, laughing. 

“How so?” Keane asks, folding the papers back into the bag.

“Well, it’s just a formality, isn’t it?” Kent says, sitting back on the bed, rubbing his neck unconsciously. “Repudiation, recall, whatever, it all comes down to the bite.” 

“What do you mean?” Keane stares at the omega. 

“Well, the alpha/omega relationship hinges on two things: trust and choice,” Kent says, his voice mellow. He taps his scar, “It’s a two-way street. Without trust and choice, there is no bond and there is no mating. An alpha has to choose the omega and the omega has to choose the alpha. Then there has to be sufficient trust built up between the two of them or it won’t stick. Even if an alpha bites an omega if they haven’t truly chosen each other, if they both don’t really feel it deep down, or if there isn’t sufficient trust between them the scar won’t take.” 

“So what happens when the scar turns black?” Keane asks, thinking of the grainy picture of the too-thin Stiles. 

“Well, that happens when one or both of them decide to sever the bond, sever the relationship. The trust is broken between them and when they both acknowledge it the scar turns black,” Kent explains. “At that point repudiation is just a legal formality. That’s why you see some omegas walking around with black scars that haven’t been repudiated yet. I mean, usually, repudiation follows pretty quickly after that. I don’t know any alpha who has acknowledged their bond is broken and hasn’t filed for repudiation.” 

“But the alpha has the right of recall at any time,” Keane says. 

“Well, yeah,” Kent says laughing. “Fucked up, isn’t it? But that’s not a guarantee that the scar is ever going to turn red again. I mean, you can recall an omega but you can’t make one trust you.” 

“Then why recall at all?” Keane asks, “I mean, why is that even a legal possibility?” 

“Why does anything in our society marginalize omegas?” Kent asks. “Control. In the old days, they recreated recall so alphas would always have control over the mothers of their children. Somethings just haven’t changed.” 

“That is fucked up,” Keane agrees. He looks at Kent carefully. “Do you know what happened to Stiles’ scar?” 

“You mean where it went?” Kent laughs. 

“Yeah,” Keane says 

“I wondered that too,” Keane says. “It’s illegal to get them surgically removed, and honestly I’m not sure it’s physically possible to get one totally removed, but I figured if any dude could find a way it would be Stiles.” He shakes his head. “Turns out he met this omega special effects artist in Seattle and the dude made him a latex skin piece that he glues on with spirit gum every day.” Kent shrugs. “I guess Stiles was sick of looking at the thing. Can’t say I blame him the way things have turned out.” 

“So it’s still there?” Keane asks, “The scar, I mean.” 

“I guess so,” Kent says. 

Laura walks into the room, statuesque in a structured Alberta Ferretti gown in Hale black. Black diamonds glint from her ears and she’s wearing a ruby alpha wedding ring that matches Kent’s engagement ring. Laura’s mouth twists into a frown the moment she enters the room. She leans over and sniffs Kent. He grins back at her. 

“On your knees,” Laura says to him, and Kent obeys. She runs one commanding hand through the omega’s hair, and Kent happily nuzzles into it. “You smell terrible.” 

“That’s my fault, Laura,” Jared says quickly. “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to hug him.” 

“Don’t make excuses for him,” Laura snaps, looking down at her omega. 

“Yeah!” Kent says, grinning up at his alpha. “Don’t make excuses for me.” He lowers his voice, gazing at Laura as if she’s the most powerful thing he’s ever seen. “Are you going to punish me?” 

“If I did you’d just like it,” Laura rolls her eyes. She turns back to Kent, “You need to get dressed.” 

“The suit’s kind of basic, don’t you think?” Kent says to the alpha.

“Oh, he’s going to have the best possible accessory on his arm,” Laura says smiling. “Some members of the press are going to be there and I sent Stiles over McQueen.” 

“I don’t see how Stiles is going to make any difference,” Keane says, frowning. 

“You carry yourself differently around him,” Laura says simply. “And trust me, I have seen what that omega can do. You think my brother would have half the balls he has if he hadn’t had Stiles on his arm for three years? A good omega is everything.”


	20. May 8th, 2019

May 8th, 2019  
The Kingsley-Hall Benefit Dinner  
Rubard's Steakhouse, Beacon Hills California

Vernon Boyd has had better days. Hell, Vernon Boyd has had better decades. In fact, for being a thirty-four-year-old millionaire, Boyd’s life should be going a lot better than this. It’s nine pm and he should be eating lobster while doing donuts in his Porsche with Lebron and Travis Scott, but instead, he’s babysitting Miss Louisiana 2004 at the oyster buffet while his dumb-ass best friend takes his sweet time getting to this stupid benefit. It’s not the first time or the three hundredth time Boyd contemplates walking out the door, flying to Ibiza, and letting Derek Fucking Hale stew in his own juices.

“Where do you think he is?” Kate Argent whines from her place next to him, checking out her reflection in a Judith Leiber compact. She surreptitiously adjusts her cleavage in her skin-tight rose gold Herve Leger gown.

“He said he’s on his way,” Boyd says, checking his phone again.

“Hey Boyd,” Scott McCall smiles up at him, walking over with a woman Boyd recognizes immediately as Melissa McCall.

“Hey,” Boyd says, smiling, reaching out to shake the beta’s hand. “Good to see you, man. You too, Mrs. McCall. You look beautiful.”

Next to him, Boyd can feel Kate quickly take in the off-the-rack quality of Scott and Melissa’s clothing and immediately lose interest.

“Yeah,” Scott looks a little awkward. “It’s been a long time. Stiles got us tickets to this thing. He said the food would be good.”

Boyd can feel Kate’s ears prick up at the sound of Stiles’ name and resists the strong urge bolt from the room, to sell all of his stocks, and change his name.

“Kate Argent,” Kate extends a manicured had to Melissa and Scott. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Oh I know who you are,” Melissa gushes. “I watch you on TV all of the time. You’re even more beautiful in person.”

“You’re too kind,” Kate says, her voice sickeningly sweet, her plastered-on smile not reaching her eyes. “Are you friends of Stiles?”

“I’m his adopted mother of sorts,” Melissa says happily. “Stiles moved in with us when he was fifteen. Are you a friend of his?”

“Kate is one of Laura’s coworkers,” Boyd says stiffly, he gently guides Kate’s arm. “I see some journalists over there that probably want pictures of you.” He says. He nods, to Melissa and Scott. “Good to see both of you.”

Boyd steers them over to the bar, hoping to defuse the situation and distract Kate from Melissa and Scott, but he nearly runs headlong into an older alpha in a maroon pantsuit in the process.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Jones,” Boyd says, “We didn’t see you there.”

“No problem at all, Boyd,” Amelia Jones, a veteran reporter for the Washington Post, smiles. “But now you’re going to have to give me a quote.” She turns to Kate, “So great to see you again, Ms. Argent.”

“All right,” Boyd says with a smile. “I guess I owe you that much.”

Amelia takes out a minicorder from her clutch and turns it on, “You know I must ask what your mother, Congresswoman Maxine Boyd had to say about you signing on to run Derek Hale’s campaign again.”

Boyd is prepared for this question. He’s had to field it at least a dozen times from his own cousins by now.

“Even though my mother has been a life-long member of the CLP, she recognizes the importance of what Derek Hale is trying to do,” Boyd says into the recorder. “Derek Hale is a moderate voice in a party which is currently dominated by extremists. Derek has lifelong relationships with people on the other side of the aisle and he’s willing to put them to use to bring bipartisanship back to DC. We believe most Americans are sick of the extremism that dominates our politics today and they want what Derek wants: reasonable reform and a voice for the middle class.” Boyd takes a breath, “Derek is a moderating presence for Mason Dorf. He has a very good relationship with Dorf and the President respects Derek’s opinions. Derek is the grownup in the TTF party and my mother respects that. He is the moderate who will bring sanity back to Washington.”

“Did somebody say my name?” Derek is sideling up to Boyd with his media face on. “Amelia, good to see you.”

“Derek!” Kate practically squeals this and winds her self around Derek like a tumbleweed.

“Senator Hale,” Amelia says, “How is your mother?”

“She’s fantastic,” Derek says, “Really enjoying retirement. She sends you her regards.”

There is a commotion at the doors and they all look up to see Laura sweeping into the restaurant with Jared Keane in borrowed Armani by her side. Lydia flanks her in a gold and green one-shouldered Naeem Khan gown. Behind them, Kent Hale is walking in deep conversation with Stiles Stilinski. The omega looks only slightly better than the last time Boyd saw him, his too-thin body partially disguised by a slim black Alexander McQueen suit. Boyd wishes he was surprised to see Stiles, but he’s played too many games of Scrabble with Laura to think she fights fair.

Amelia Jones immediately calls the party over, motioning to a photographer behind her. “Laura!” She says, the excitement evident in her voice. “Can we get a picture of the family reunion?”

Laura looks a little hesitant at first, indecision playing on her fine-boned features. He sees Lydia elbow her in the ribs. Boyd looks at Derek, the other alpha is white as a sheet and staring into his drink.

“Of course,” Laura says, her smile strained as she guides her entourage over to where Derek and Kate are standing. “But you have to talk to my candidate first, Amelia. That’s the rules.” She smiles charmingly, nudging Keane forwards.

“Amelia Jones,” Amelia says, shaking Keane’s hand vigorously. “Reporter for the Washington Post.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Jones,” Keane says with an easy smile and a firm grip. “And might I commend you on your reporting in these troubled times. There are those who want to attack the media, but we need you to keep us honest.”

“Do you have a question for my candidate?” Laura asks and Boyd takes in how she is practically glowing with pride.

“I have a question,” Kate says, staring at Laura and Keane from Derek’s side.

Ameilia looks at her with interest, “By all means,” She says. “It’s like a mini taping of The View.”

Kate squares herself at Keane, “You say you’re here to fight for omega rights and protect omegas, but how can you, a beta, possibly begin to understand the needs of the omega community? Isn’t it a far better argument to put a strong alpha, somebody who innately understands omegas in office?”

There’s a long pause as Keane looks at Kate as if frozen and Boyd can see Laura visibly begin to panic. Then Stiles is shuffling his way to the front, standing next to Keane.

“Jared Keane understands equality,” Stiles says, looking directly at Kate. “He’s an unbiased opinion and is able to weigh the facts clearly. He’s proven in his community work he’s strong enough to stand up for omegas, and consistent enough to keep fighting until we get equal rights in legislation. More than that, Jared Keane understands policy and what’s at stake here.” He smiles up at Keane. “I trust him. I trust him to do the right thing for omegas. More than I would most alphas.”

“Is that Stiles Stilinski?” Amelia stares at the omega sharply and then turns to look at Derek.

Laura smiles a dazzling smile again, “He’s a staffer on our campaign.”

“He’s more than just a staffer,” Keane says, and he leans down and kisses Stiles on the mouth. Somewhere in the background, the photographer’s lights flash all around them.

Boyd spends the rest of the night staring at Derek and trying to keep the Hale siblings at opposite sides of the restaurant. Derek is silent most of the night, his face stony. He grunts answers to Kate and keeps downing scotch like it’s his job. After a few hours, Boyd intercepts his drinks and hands him glasses of water instead. After three hours of intense shepherding, Boyd runs to the bathroom and comes out to see Derek tripping after Stiles out of the coatroom. The omega looks thoroughly pissed and heads for the door. Lydia slams Derek up against the wall and mutters something before leaving in a huff as well.

Swearing every word he can think of in his head, Boyd grabs Derek’s arm and manhandles them both back into the privacy of the coatroom.

“You want to tell me what the fuck was that?” Boyd exclaims instantly.

Derek just stares back, his jaw clenched, his eyes livid. “Did you see him?”

“Yeah, I saw him!” Boyd answers.

“Did you _smell_ him?” Derek seethes.

“I don’t care if he smelled like every member of the Dallas Cowboys combined!” Boyd snaps. He grabs the bridge of his nose. “Derek, please. Please tell me the last three years, the last campaign, that all of this wasn’t a ploy to get Stiles back.”

“Honestly?” Derek says, grinding his teeth. “It wasn’t. But yeah, it might have just turned into that.”

“Oh fuck me!” Boyd exclaims, pounding his fist into the door. “Jesus mother-fucking Christ.” He turns back to Derek. “Now I know you’re out of your goddamned mind!” Derek just stares at him, his fists clenched. “The fuck are you thinking?”

“Did you smell him?”

“What does it matter?” Boyd asks angrily. “We’ve got the votes. The House already passed it.”

“Did you see--” Derek is pacing now. “Did you see him? Did you see how he just let him kiss him like that?”

“Yeah, I did.” Boyd says, his voice softening. “Derek, come on, man. You can’t do this. Not again.”

“I...I…” And for one terrible moment, Derek looks lost. Then the alpha’s face solidifies. “You’re right.” He says, unclenching his fists. “We have the votes.”

“Yeah.” Boyd says. “And you have a responsibility. You might be the only one Mason will listen to if shit hits the fan.”

“I know,” Derek swallows, steeling his face. “I know that.”

“You have a chance to do some real good here,” Boyd says. “Make a real difference. You might be able to actually get some shit passed.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, but his voice sounds dead.

“Promise me you’ll let this go,” Boyd says. “Not for me. Not for the voters. For you. Promise me you’ll let him go.”

Derek looks at Boyd and Boyd sees the face of a man who lost his sense of equilibrium a long time ago and can no longer recognize the floor.

“What if I can’t?” he asks, his voice raspy and haunted.

“You have to,” Boyd says. “You just have to.”


	21. May 9th, 2019

May 9th, 2019  
St. Cecelia's University for Omegas  
Beacon Hill, California

Stiles steps out of his evening class into the humid warm, air and walks out on the green leafy expanse of campus. He walks over to the parking lot, shifting his heavy backpack over his slender shoulders. Leaning against his car is an intimidating and instantly recognizable figure. Derek is glowering at the world in front of him wearing a white t-shirt and jeans and for one bizarre moment, Stiles flashes back to the countless times Derek had come pick him up from UC Berkeley and he can feel his heart physically twist in his chest. As he walks closer, the intoxicating smell of blood and figs and musk gets stronger and Stiles can feel his pupils dilate in response. But this Derek isn’t that Derek, Stiles reminds himself. This Derek isn’t safe. This Derek isn’t home.

Stiles arranges his face in a long-since perfected expression of steely indifference. “What are you doing here?” He asks icily.

Derek looks down at him, his face equally stony. “I told you, we weren’t done.”

In spite of everything, in spite of what Stiles now knows about Dorf, Derek looks impossibly good glowering down at him, his body solid and radiating heat. Stiles’ body can still remember palpably what it was like to be held safe in those arms, to be kissed and soothed by those lips, to be dominated by the sheer weight and power of the alpha. And Stiles hates himself.

“And I told you we were,” He says.

“Look,” Derek says, and his voice softens. “I shouldn’t have been angry last night. Not with you. I just couldn’t believe Laura would pull you into this. Not like that.”

Stiles looks around paranoidly. He’s almost certain there’s nobody from the media around, but given the last twenty-four hours, he’s not about to make that bet.

“Come on,” He says, and Derek follows him into the nearest building. It’s nighttime and campus is all but deserted. They enter an empty classroom and Stiles drops his bag in a chair. He stands in front of Derek and crosses his arms.

“How did you find me?” He asks.

“Everything about you is all over BuzzFeed,” Derek says. “So much for not making this campaign about you.”

“It’s not about me,” Stiles shoots back. “This is human interest, that’s all. It’ll die out.”

“Human interest?” Derek asks and the anger is back in his voice. “Is that what you call him jamming his tongue down your throat? He and Laura were trying to bait me.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Stiles says, willing himself to ignore the obvious strain in the alpha’s voice and how much it makes him want to fall to his knees right there, burying his face in the alpha’s warm, strong thigh, and beg for forgiveness, beg to be taken back and be loved and made safe. Beg Derek not to leave him. Never to leave him. “If anything,” Stiles keeps his voice carefully neutral, “They were baiting the media.”

“So, this was your idea?” Derek growls, and Stiles can see his pupils dilate as the alpha steps towards him.

“When has being kissed in public ever been my idea?” Stiles snorts derisively.

Derek looks down for a moment before looking back at Stiles, “You know why I’m here.”

Stiles looks down. “I would imagine it has something to do with telling me to leave the campaign.”

Derek frowns, “I told Laura this wasn’t good for you. And it’s not. I can see that from here. But that’s not why I’m here.”

Stiles looks back up at Derek and crosses his arms even tighter, silent and angry.

“Why does he let you do it?” Derek asks. “Does he know? Or does he just care so little about you-”

“That’s none of his business,” Stiles interrupts sharply.

The heated anger of Derek’s gaze is relentless. “What dose are you on?”

“And that’s none of yours!” Stiles says, staring back, daring Derek to contradict him.

Stiles watches Derek’s face crack just a little and the alpha is close to him again, his voice soft as he leans over. “I’m not your enemy.”

Stiles forces his face to remain impenetrable, feeling Derek’s scent begin to penetrate him. “Only because your biology won’t let you be.”

“Mmm,” Derek reaches out with his large fingers and caresses the skin where Stiles’ scar used to be. “What is this?”

“Stop that!” Stiles bats away his hand, taking a step back.

“What is it?” Derek asks again, his eyes screwed up in horrified fascination.

“Latex,” Stiles says. “Fake skin. It’s glued on.”

Derek frowns. “It’s hideous.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles snips. “It’s not my fault I have to hide it.”

“Is that what you think?” Derek asks, sighing.

“Yes,” Stiles replies obstinately.

Derek pauses, "Has he seen it?"

Stiles' face gives away nothing, then he sighs. "Of course not. I can't even... I just can't."

“Let me see it,” Derek says looking a little please, reaching out and brushing his hand over Stiles’ skin.

“No,” Stiles says, pulling away. “I told you once no member of the TTF would ever touch me.”

“Things change,” Derek says, eyeing Stiles tiredly.

“Mason Dorf doesn’t,” Stiles looks Derek in the eyes. “What the hell are you thinking?”

Derek looks back at him for a long moment before sighing, tiredly. “He wants me on the ticket in 2020.”

“And why the fuck would you ever want that?” Stiles asks.

“Because like it or not he’s the incumbent and you know the odds of him winning are significant,” Derek says, looking about a million-years-old. “And if it’s not me it’ll be one of them and they won’t even try to make him do the right thing.”

“You think you can reason with a guy like that?” Stiles asks, his eyes nearly glowing with disgust. “You think you can stem corruption in that administration?”

“I think trying is better than doing nothing,” Derek says.

“It won’t work,” Stiles says. “Maybe with one of the guys in the past this would have worked, but this is a man who won’t play ball with anyone and all they’ll do is continue to force their racist and omegaist and horrible economic policies on this country, and you know who will suffer the most then? The vulnerable, Derek. The working poor, the elderly, the single mothers, and those without access to healthcare. People who don’t have the time or resources or education to stand up for themselves. And he’ll use you like he does everybody else to make it happen.”

“I have to try,” Derek says, his face drained. “If he wins and I’m not the one next to him...” He looks down at Stiles, and his eyes are like they were back in the old days, “Please stop,” He says.

“I’m okay,” Stiles says, swallowing at the pain in Derek’s voice. “I promise.” And Stiles doesn’t think he can take being in the same room as this pain and this scent for one moment longer without doing something he’ll regret. “I’ve got to go.” He turns and leaves the room.


	22. June 3rd, 2019

June 3rd, 2019  
Beacon Hill, California 

After seeing Stiles at the university, Derek almost immediately boarded one of Hale Industries' jets the next day and flew to DC. Derek was hollow but determined, a soldier who’d been fighting a war for years without even realizing he’d been in a battle zone. He’d been terrified to leave Beacon Hills, had considered not going, afraid that if he left the area Stiles would disappear again-- or worse. But as the jet had put miles and space between Derek and California, some part of him had been relieved to be leaving Laura and Cora and his mother and even Boyd behind. He couldn’t handle their looks of anger and disappointment and judgment, as if he were a machine they’d systematically built over a series of careful years, only to have it malfunction and implode. 

Ever since Derek had seen Stiles again in Laura’s office all he can smell is bile and iron and acid. It’s in his nose and mouth and on his clothes and food no longer tastes like anything but dead flesh. It doesn’t matter how much he showers or what he does, the stench has permeated his mind and lives in his thoughts. It makes him sick with some indefinable worry and fear. 

Derek passed the bill through the senate on the 17th and Mason had signed it into law, effective immediately the following week. Within twenty-four hours they’d pulled omega access to suppressants without alpha permission from every healthcare system and pharmacy in the country. It was a rare move, but this, at least, was one campaign promise Mason Dorf had kept. Derek had flown home, drained and exhausted on the 28th, crawled into bed and tried to will himself to sleep. 

Derek is at his office working late when he gets the call. At first, he can’t believe his eyes when he sees Laura’s name popping up on his screen for the first time in years. He answers it quickly, expecting the worst. 

“Laura?” 

“Derek!” Laura’s voice is bloodless and filled with fear. “It’s Stiles.”

“What is it? What’s happened?” Derek gets up immediately, feeling his whole body tense, his mind reeling into chaos and terror. He has to be okay. Dear God, whatever it is, he can’t be--

“He’s going through withdrawal,” Laura gasps. “And I don’t know what to do. I think-- I think you might be the best way to help him.”

“How bad is it?” Derek asks, already on his way out the door, horrible images running through his head. “Is he conscious?” 

“You need to get here immediately,” Laura says. 

“I’m on my way,” Derek says, snapping the phone off and bolting for his car.

The office is deserted as Derek barrels up the stairs of L & L headquarters, following the scent of acid and bile. He charges into Laura’s office, steps over a few puddles of vomit, and sees his older sister bent over an omega lying in the fetal position on the floor. Derek immediately falls to his knees next to the omega. Stiles is shaking uncontrollably, drenched in sweat, his eyes blown open with pain. They roll up towards Derek, his teeth chattering. 

“Derek,” Stiles rasps at him. 

“Stiles! I’m here,” Derek reaches out desperately, touching the omega’s neck, feeling for his pulse. He turns to Laura. “How much did he take?” 

“This isn’t an OD,” Laura says, looking terrified. “It’s withdrawal-- thanks I would imagine to that little stunt you pulled in Washington last week. His biochemistry is completely out of whack. He’s being flooded with an excess of omega hormones to make up for them being repressed for so long. He’s having a toxic reaction.”

Stiles’ eyes stare up at Derek helplessly from the floor. “It hurts.” He says, through clenched teeth. 

“All of his muscles are cramping up,” Laura says, leaning down to wipe at Stiles’ brow with a damp cloth. The omega flinches away at her touch, whining in pain. “I looked it up. The symptoms are pretty excruciating.” She looks at Derek, stricken. “I don’t know what happened. He was fine this afternoon and then when I came back to my office this evening to get my laptop I found him like this.” 

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Derek says, running his hand through Stiles’s sweat-soaked hair. The omega shifts under his hands, unconsciously nuzzling closer to Derek’s scent. 

“No,” Stiles rasps. “The media. They’ll find out. You can’t take me in public.”

“I called the doctor. He said the symptoms will go away in two to three days if we just let them work themselves out.” Laura says, her voice shaking. She looks at Derek and something unspoken passes between them. “But Derek, I can’t leave him like this. I thought maybe, your scent, it’s supposed to help.” 

“Leave us,” Derek says, looking back at her. “I’ll take care of him.” 

“Derek--” Laura looks hesitant. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Derek says to his sister. “I promise I’ll just take him home if that’s what he wants, but you’re going to have to trust me here.” 

Laura looks to where Stiles’ head is cradled in Derek’s hands. His teeth have stopped chattering mostly and he’s just panting, looking a little relieved, his face pressed to Derek’s wrist, inhaling the alpha’s scent.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asks the omega. His eyes roll towards her and he nods tightly. Laura nods and leaves the room, glancing back only once at where her brother is sitting. 

Once Laura leaves the room, Derek hauls Stiles into his lap carefully, resting the omega against his chest. Stiles smells like pain and panic and slick. The omega immediately buries his face in Derek’s neck, seeking out the scent. 

“How high of a dose?” Derek asks, wrapping his arms around the shaking omega. 

Stiles shoves one shaking hand into his pants and fishes out an empty pill bottle, handing it to Derek. Derek looks at the label. Just as Derek's suspected and feared-- it’s the highest dose available.

“Goddamnit. You know you’re sensitive to these!” Derek mutters, feeling fury and terror coarse through his veins as he holds Stiles’ tense body close. 

“My head,” Stiles gasps out, shutting his eyes tightly. 

“Is it starting to get better at all?” Derek asks, covering Stiles’ eyes with one hand the way he used to when Stiles got a migraine. 

“Yes,” Stiles chokes out, barely able to form words. “But it hurts.” The omega grabs his abdomen and twists grotesquely as the cramps hit him again. 

“Do you want me to call Keane?” Derek asks quietly, shifting Stiles so the omega’s nose is close to where Derek’s scent is the strongest under his jaw. 

“No,” Stiles answers flatly, inhaling against Derek’s neck like a drowning man. “He can’t know.” 

Another tremor racks Stiles’ body violently and the omega lets out a high gasp of pain. Derek’s mind is racing, his body filled with alpha adrenaline, fear, and worry. He tips Stiles’ head back gently so he can look in the omega’s eyes. 

“I can make this stop,” He says, staring down at Stiles. “If I knot you, it will flush out your system and restore your normal chemical balance. It’s what they tell you to do when your omega is going through withdrawal. My scent is only going to help so much.” 

And there it is, Derek has laid it all on the table. He watches as the omega looks back at him, his face twisted in pain. 

“Okay,” Stiles gasps, his body arching under Derek. “Okay. Do it.” 

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, stroking Stiles’ hair back from his sweaty face. 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “I can’t-- I can’t keep this up.” He wretches again and it contorts his whole body against the alpha’s. “Please,” He looks up at Derek. “Don’t keep me like this.” 

“Okay,” Derek says, kissing his brow. “Okay.” 

Derek carries the shaking omega through the deserted office, and down to the parking garage. Just knowing relief is on its way seems to do the omega good. By the time Derek carefully folds Stiles into the passenger seat of his car, the omega has stopped shaking and is instead staring at him through half-open eyes, his head lolling on the seat. Derek climbs into the driver’s seat of his car and practically speeds out of the garage. 

“I’ve got you,” He murmurs, running one hand over Stiles’ head and neck and chest as he pushes down on the gas. “You’re going to be okay.” 

Stiles lets out a whine in response and pulls two of Derek’s fingers into his mouth. This seems to placate the omega, and Derek can feel Stiles working his fingers over with his tongue and teeth and lips. Derek can feel himself growing hard, the scent of Stiles seeping into him as he struggles to keep the car on the road. He turns to see the omega gazing at him, through slitted eyes, sucking on his fingers. The sight both inflames him and enrages him at the same time. And he wonders how he’s going to make it home without pulling the car over, yanking to omega to him, and making Stiles feel and taste just how worried Derek’s been, just how crazy Stiles makes him. 

As if able to read his mind, Stiles spits out Derek’s fingers and glares at him. “Don’t get any ideas. I still hate you.” 

Derek pulls into his garage and pushes open his car door violently. He walks over and yanks the passenger door open. He snaps off Stiles’ seatbelt and hauls the soaked omega up, bodily into his arms. Without fanfare or warning, he’s ravaging the omega’s mouth, more attack than kiss, getting lost in Stiles’ taste, in the long-missed feel of his lips and his mouth under Derek’s command. And Stiles is biting him back, clinging to him as if somebody is going to come and rip them apart and he needs Derek to breathe. They fight their way through up into his bedroom somehow, Stiles’ legs wrapped around Derek’s waist, his hips already canting against Derek’s engorged cock. Every movement aches, every hot breath from Stiles’ mouth scalds Derek, egging him on. 

He’s starving for this, ravenous and angry and wanting. Derek presses Stiles back on his bed, biting at every bit of flesh he can reach, the omega writhing and panting under him, his skin growing hot and sensitized. He rips off Stiles’ shirt and fumbles between them at Stiles’ pants, his fingers clumsy with need. Stiles' hand goes to brush Derek’s away so he can undo his own pants, impatient, but Derek’s hands overpower the omega’s. Stiles pants are soon ripped off as well and the first thing Derek does is part Stiles’ legs roughly and lean down to scent him. 

He looks up at the omega, his pupils dilated with greed. “You haven’t let him fuck you.” He says, his voice ragged. 

“No,” Stiles admits, his bitten lips red and engorged. 

“Wouldn’t matter if you did,” Derek growls, running his lips over Stiles’ hip bone, down his inner thigh. “All it would do is remind you only I can make you feel like this.” He looks back up at Stiles and their eyes meet heatedly. “Only I can do this to you.” 

“Fuck you,” Stiles spits back at him, canting his hips closer to Derek’s mouth. 

In response Derek swallows Stiles down, instantly remembering all of the other times he’s had the omega writhing and begging under him, savoring the taste he’d never thought he’d have again. He runs a finger over Stiles’ hole experimentally, pleased with how wet the omega is. He slips a wide finger in and almost purrs at the feeling. Stiles is so tight and warm and perfect. He runs his tongue along Stiles, playing on the omega’s engorged skin, remembering exactly what the omega likes. 

“Stop that,” Stiles snaps from above him. “Are you going to knot me or not?” 

Derek looks up, scissoring Stiles with two careful fingers now. “You’re tight.” He says. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“I don’t care,” Stiles says and he sounds like he's holding his breath, one arm thrown over his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.” 

In response, Derek pulls off him completely, and the omega whines at the loss the wide pressure inside of him, desperate to be filled, hips canting desperately at the resulting empty feeling. 

“Come on,” Stiles whines. “Do it.” 

Derek reaches up, kissing Stiles savagely. He looks down at the omega. “You know what I want to see.” He claws the latex off the omega’s neck forcefully, revealing a large, deep carmine scar, the color of the deepest ruby. He runs his thumb over it worshipfully. “After all these years,” He rasps. “It hasn’t changed." He growls, "You should show him. He deserves the truth.” 

“My alpha left me,” Stile spits up at Derek, his eyes furious, his voice filled with pain. “That’s all the truth he needs.” 

“So you don’t think he needs to know you still love-” Derek starts.

“I don’t--” Stiles’ hand is coming up hard to slap him across the face. Derek catches it easily with one large hand, bringing it to his mouth and licking Stiles’ palm obscenely. 

He looks down at the omega. “You can lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me. It’s the one thing we never did.” He pulls Stiles up bodily and forces them both over to the floor-length mirror. Derek is behind Stiles, one strong arm wrapped around the omega’s waist, the other at his neck. “Look at it!” He demands, staring at both of them in the reflection. “Look at it and tell me what you see!” 

Stiles stares back at him in the mirror, his eyes alive with emotion, “I hate you.” 

With a roar of frustration and anger, Derek throws Stiles back on the bed and hovers over him. 

“Fuck me,” Stiles goads from below him. “Do it.” 

Derek sinks into the omega with no fanfare and Stiles is hot and tight and alive around him. He buries his face in Stiles’ neck and the omega is writhing and whining and egging him on under him. He sets a brutal pace, snapping his hips forward as if he can’t get enough of the physical sensation, enough of the feel of Stiles’ body around him. 

“Do you not think I can feel you, all the time?” Derek rasps into the omega’s ear, as Stiles claws at his back. “Do you not think I don’t know? Every close call. Every sleepless night. I’ve felt you dying every day.” 

“I hate you so much,” Stiles says back, his voice wrecked, snapping his hips up to meet Derek’s. “I will never believe you. Never.” 

“You ruined my life,” Derek says, reaching down to stroke Stiles’ heavy flesh, and the omega moans. 

“I will never believe that,” Stiles gasps. 

“You ruined me,” Derek says, and he leans down and bites Stiles hard on his old mating scar. He can feel Stiles convulsing and coming around him and it feels even better when the omega digs his nails down the side of Derek’s neck leaving four bloody gashes behind the alpha’s ear. 

As his orgasm subsides and his knot begins to grow, Derek bundles Stiles as close to him as he can, tucking the omega’s head under his jaw. Stiles is exhausted and incoherent, every muscle in the omega’s body finally relaxed. Derek kisses him gently all over his eyelids, nose, and lips, willing the omega to sleep. In a few hours, he’ll wake Stiles and make him drink some water. Then Derek will take his time, relearn every inch of the omega’s body, take him apart piece by piece. This time Derek will get to savor every noise omega makes, every touch of his skin, every sensation as he slowly coaxes Stiles to come again and again, and the world can burn for all he cares.


	23. June 4th, 2019

June 4th, 2019  
12:00 AM

It’s like a shot of pure heroin to a long-term addict’s system and his body doesn’t hurt anymore. In fact, he hadn’t known he’d been in such debilitating, chronic pain until this moment of sudden, shocking non-pain and he wonders vaguely how on earth he’s been walking around, going to work, doing homework, driving a car, and existing without this. All of a sudden his failures and his struggles make perfect sense. He’s been living his life as a bleeding, wounded thing.

Derek’s solid chest is rising and falling under his in a steady rhythm that sings of security and home. The pressure of his knot, fitting so perfectly inside Stiles, as if it were made for him alone, anchors the omega, tying him in peacefully to that elusive sense of belonging. Every muscle in Stiles’ tired body is relaxed, but he aches slightly, in the best possible way, his nerves pleasantly strung out.

Stiles wakes but doesn’t open his eyes and for the first time in over five years, he feels normal. And this. This is how he knows everything is wrong. But for a moment, for one single, stupid moment before the sheer wrongness of everything starts to permeate his mind and his muscles, Stiles can almost believe the last five years didn’t happen and this night is like every other countless night where Derek had knotted him and he’s fallen asleep on the alpha's chest, sated and drenched in their combined sweat and scents. Fucked out. Fucked out, beyond caring, loved, and safe.

But like every delusion of happiness Stiles has ever had in his entire cursed life, this one only lasts about as long as it takes for his brain to come on board again.

_“Let me put this in perspective for you. There is nothing they can do to you that I can’t fix later.”_

Lies. Derek had said it was the one thing they had never done to each other, but even that was a sort lie. What he’d meant was they’d never lied to each other knowingly. There had been plenty of lies they hadn’t known about until later. These hadn’t meant to be lies. And this mirage of security had been the most damning to Stiles. It had been the one he’d wanted to believe above anything, above even that Derek loved him. Like every other sorry soul who’d gotten himself entangled in a long-term relationship, Stiles and Derek had only managed to get this far because they had seemed to fulfill each other’s most primitive need. Derek, after the repeated rejections of his mother and Laura, and the loss of his father, which had been a sort of rejection in itself, had needed to know Stiles loved him. Stiles had just needed to know he was Derek’s. Had just needed to know he wasn’t alone in this.

But of course, Stiles hadn’t been able to love Derek enough, and Derek had left. And here they were. Here they all were.

Stiles had been around fifteen when he’d first realized he was trapped in his own body. He’d known he was less happy than his classmates a long time before that, but he hadn’t realized this unhappiness might just be some innate inescapable part of him until then. He’d been a teenager when he’d started noticing he was stuck. Stuck in his gender, which would never truly be respected, stuck in his body, which flooded him with so many hormones and chemicals he couldn’t help but constantly react, stuck in a cycle of poverty with no family and nothing to call his own, stuck in a brain which would never let him rest. Without anyone and without any control. And he’d been looking for the silver bullet ever since.

Most omegas aren’t on hormone suppressants. About 12.7% of omegas over the age of twelve are-- around the same percentage of Americans who are prescribed anti-depressants. Of those, who knows how many are like him and don’t take them as directed. It isn’t the sort of thing that is generally self-reported. Suppressants hit like benzodiazepines-- harmless at first, even helpful if taken correctly. They hit the bloodstream fast and a delicious otherworldly numbness comes with it, blocking out the noise and clamor of anxiety, or invasive thoughts. And Stiles had taken to them like an infant to milk. He’d used them without prudence or precaution, using the horse pills to bend his unruly body, out of control mind, his reckless chemicals to his will and will himself back into control, subjugating his body the way the world wanted to subdue all omegas.

He started on them at eighteen, a few weeks after he’d started up at UC Berkley. Like most addicts, he’d started on a small dose with a responsible doctor. But safe and responsible hadn’t been how Stiles was raised. About a month into his freshman year, he’d returned to his hometown to attend the funeral of one of his high school classmates who’d OD-ed on suppressants. And because you couldn’t OD unless you had the good stuff, Stiles had gotten the name of his dead classmate’s doctor at the funeral.

The drugs had pre-dated Derek, only barely, and next to Derek they’d been the most effective thing to keep his world under control. To keep him from noticing and obsessively turning over every day of rejection and loneliness from his childhood and every night of uncontrollable anxiety and chaos in his adulthood in his mind. He’d learned quickly you could not really achieve anything without your reality being inescapable to yourself, but you also could not fall prey to anxiety without noticing everything around you. And then he realized, the thing that set him apart, his greatest strength, was also the thing that was eating him from the inside, demanding homage in the form of pills and poison. That the thing he’d used to control his life was taking over and it might kill him.

Even before he’d known about Drek’s dad he’d been secretive, refusing to accept life was a team sport because Stiles had always been picked last for teams. Teams could leave you. The drugs, up until recently could not. The drugs were cheap and easy. And then when they’d ceased to be easy, at least they’d been reliable. Derek had proven to be unreliable. Everyone had.

And yet, somehow Stiles had known Derek would come tonight, had known it in his aching bones that it would only be a matter of time even before Laura had found him. It was almost as if he had willed it into reality, he’d wanted the alpha so badly. And when Derek had come, it hadn’t mattered that Stiles hated him and Derek didn’t love Stiles, he’d pushed the alpha, goaded him masterfully into violence and anger and they’d fallen back into their natural rhythm of fucking and yelling and pain and anger and for the first time in five years Stiles had remembered all the reasons they had been together in the first place and all of the reasons it had been mutually assured destruction from day one.

Of course, he wouldn’t have even fallen into withdrawal in the first place had he safely tapered off on the drugs the way his poor, stupid doctor had advised. Stiles wonders how many omegas of the 12.7 % had their supply cut off with the new legislation the way he had. He wonders how many of them hadn’t followed their doctor’s advice. When you were an omega, not following your doctor’s advice was one of the only ways to truly have any agency over your body. And the thing was, you couldn’t die from suppressant-withdrawal, but you could want to and that wasn’t likely to be a new experience for an omega abusing them anyways.

Would the right thing have been to get as far away from Derek and rescue as possible when the symptoms of withdrawal had started in? Was there even a right thing left where Derek was concerned? Probably not. But did that mean he should stop trying?

No. He needed to keep trying. Maybe the drugs hadn’t been the silver bullet, but neither was Derek. Not five years ago and certainly not now. That was the thing about growing up. You realized there was no silver bullet, only things that dulled the pain until they didn’t.

Stiles pushes himself off Derek’s chest with a considerable effort, every nerve and instinct in his body screaming at him to lie back down and let Derek’s scent consume him. Thankfully, the alpha doesn’t wake, his instincts no doubt thrown off after years of their separation. In theory, Stiles has read about getting out of a knot that’s still popped, but he isn’t prepared for how painful it is as he wrenches Derek away from his unwilling body. He can feel his muscles desperately trying to grasp on to nothing, the sudden loss of secure pressure inside him nearly unbearable. He bites his lower lip against the ringing pain until it bleeds. Numbly, he pulls his body into a sitting position and nearly collapses again, suddenly weak. It takes all of his strength to pull on his pants and woodenly find his shirt in the darkness. He can barely walk and all of his muscles are protesting, but Stiles manages to pull on the shirt clumsily. All of the buttons are scattered across the room, so he pulls it against himself like a robe and awkwardly shrugs his hoodie on over it. He zips the hoodie up securely and throws on the hood, tying it under his neck tightly, hiding the congealed blood on his neck.

Stiles limps out of the bedroom, pulling on his shoes and willing himself to not look back at the sleeping alpha, even with everything in him screaming to turn around, to tuck himself back into bed next to Derek. He staggers downstairs and out of the open garage, into the darkness of the night.

Stiles shuffles down the streets until he’s well out of Derek’s gated community, then he calls for a Lyft on his phone. The driver who pulls up in the obscurity of the night is a beta, but Stiles can tell from the way he looks at him, filled with pity and concern, he can smell the come and blood and violence on him from the front seat.

They drive in silence for about four minutes before the driver turns to him and says, “Are you okay, man?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, and his voice is hoarse and ragged. “I’m good.”

“Do you need a hospital or something?” The driver is peering at him from the rearview mirror. “No offense, man, but you don’t look so good.”

Stiles makes himself smile and he can see the blood on his lips in the mirror, “I promise you, I’m great.”

The driver shuts up after that, figuring whatever happened to Stiles that night exists in the anals of alpha/omega dynamics that betas can’t and don’t want to understand. When he drops Stiles off at his apartment, Stiles gives him a more-than-generous tip, praying the driver won’t recognize him the next morning when he’s reading the paper or has the news on in the background of his own living room.

Stiles hauls himself up the stairs and staggers into his apartment. He pulls off every ragged piece of clothing, including his socks and shoes and throws them into a black plastic trash bag, knotting it vehemently when he’s through. Then Stiles crawls into his bathroom and turns on the shower as hot as it can go. He lays there under the intense, scalding spray, and he thinks he maybe can beat the sharp pangs into submission if he can wake up enough to make a fist, but there is nothing he can do because he can’t feel his body in the normal way and he can’t feel the floor. He doesn’t know how long, but it stays like that for a while. He is at that place where not wanting to get up has blurred with not being able to get up. And this is good because everything in him wants Derek, wants to get in his car and drive back to Derek’s house and tuck himself under the alpha’s weight again, fuck the world with all of its lies and all of its liars. And under the hot shower, Stiles can’t tell if he’s crying or if the water from the spray is just running down his face, burning his skin.


	24. June 4th, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrecking Ball by Eli Lieb 
> 
> "I never meant to start a war  
> I just wanted you to let me in  
> I guess I should've let you in  
> Don't you ever say I just walked away  
> I will always want you"

June 4th, 2019  
10:30 AM  
Stiles’ Apartment  
Beacon Hills, California

Sometime around seven the shower had long since turned freezing cold and Stiles crawled out of the bathroom. He called into work and texted his professors he wouldn’t be in class that day. Laura had texted back wanting to know if he was okay in about a million increasingly desperate emojis. Stiles ignored her. Then he’d limped into his bedroom and collapsed on his bed, shaking and dry heaving.

It’s midmorning when he’s awoken by a loud banging on his apartment door that is so forceful it can only be a SWAT team or an alpha with a bone to pick. At first, Stiles ignores the racket, willing whatever it is to go the fuck away. But after about ten minutes it becomes apparent whoever it is isn’t going away and Stiles hauls himself up, throwing on sweatpants and a hoodie awkwardly. He pulls the hood all the way up and secures it tightly under his chin, effectively hiding the crimson evidence of his body’s last act of betrayal. He limps to the door and cracks it open. Derek is standing in the dingey hallway, his hair still sticking up, his eyes burning into Stiles.

Stiles thinks he groans. “How did you find me?” He shakes his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question.”

Derek folds his arms, power posing in a way all alphas do when they’re expecting a fight and they’re subconsciously trying to dominate a space. “Are you okay?” He growls.

Stiles blinks, still not opening the door any farther. “Obviously.”

“I was worried.” The alpha says coldly.

“Well, that sounds like a personal problem,” Stiles mutters.

Derek positively glares at him as if he could light the whole building on fire with his eyes. “We need to talk.”

“Oh, now we need to talk,” Stiles says, falling back into his old stress habit of letting his mouth run the show. “I don’t remember you needing to talk when I needed to talk.”

Derek huffs in frustration. “You were the one who never wanted to talk.”

Stiles laughs humorlessly, “I still don’t want to talk.”

“That’s too bad.”

Stiles pauses, and then, “Jesus, I forgot how stupid we are together.” He opens the door and lets Derek in against his better judgment, making a calculated decision that the sooner Derek yells at him, the sooner he can get the alpha out the door.

Derek walks into the apartment, and Stiles can see him sizing up his surroundings, taking in data as quickly as only an alpha can, scenting out the place, making sure they’re alone. Apparently satisfied, the alpha folds and refolds his arms, fixing Stiles with unblinking focus.

“I needed to know you were okay,” Derek says, his jaw clenched.

“Of course I am,” Stiles glares at him indignantly, taking in the way the four bloody gashes he left on Derek’s neck mirrors his own crimson mating scar. The alpha is making no attempt to hid these wounds.

“You left.”

“Of course I did,” Stiles says.

“Yeah,” Derek grinds out. “You’ve always been good at that.”

“So have you,” Stiles points out.

Derek’s eyes flash, “I never left. Not really.”

“That’s not what it felt like,” Stiles challenges, shifting on his feet.

Derek lets out another great gust of frustration, and then, “What were you thinking?”

“Not about you, that’s for sure,” Stiles quips back, his eyes daring Derek to contradict him.

“Of course not,” Derek snaps. “That’s your problem! You’ve never been able to take responsibility for what they do to you.” He pauses, looking down. “For what they’ve done to me.”

“Oh no,” Stiles says quickly, “Whatever happened in the past, fuck- whatever happened last night, go ahead and lay that on me. That was me all day. I’ll take full responsibility for that one. For all of it, even. But you don’t get to stand here and look at me like you didn’t make choices too. Fuck. They might have even been the right choices where the two of us are concerned, but remember-- I might have started the bleeding, but you swung the deathblow.”

“I don’t think you have any conception under God what you’ve done,” Derek seethes, his hands in fists now, his knuckles white.

“Me?” Stiles chokes. “Senator, you just passed landmark legislation that chipped away at the already shakey rights of my whole fucking gender! How did you think I would take that?”

“What was I supposed to do, Stiles?” Derek glares, his eyes furious, pinning Stiles to the spot.

“I don’t know?” Stiles throws up his hands. “Act like a fucking reasonable human being?”

“And how exactly did you expect me to do that?” Derek growls through clenched teeth. “After what you did? After what you were going to keep doing?”

“You’re mad at me.” Stiles folds his arms. “I get that. But what you don’t get is it was my choice-- mine. And I’ve had precious few of them. Just like it was Justin’s choice and your father’s choice-- yes, your dad-- and every other omega’s choice to take the drugs. ‘Land of the free’-- Derek. Freedom has consequences. We may be omegas but we’re not children. I knew what I was doing. I was my choice to take the drugs and it was my right to start them. Just like it was my individual choice to take them the way I did. It is my body and I’ll be damned if you or anybody else tell me what to do with it.” He glares at Derek. “In my whole life, I’ve been told my body doesn’t belong to me and my mind doesn’t belong to me, not really, and so in this one way, I was taking back control. And that was my right.”

“Your right?!” Derek takes a step towards him. “Stiles-- you told me you loved me. You promised to be with me forever. How did you have any right to hurt the one thing I cared about in the entire world when you promised me a life with you?” Derek blinks, his eyes filled with pain. “How can you think that you had any right to sit there and tell me you loved me and hurt yourself like that? It destroyed me, watching you day in and day out.” Derek’s voice is thick and picking up speed as he relives the past seven years. “And I begged you to stop. I begged you to get help. Fuck. I read and researched and talked to every doctor I could. I told you there are other ways to deal with this than the drugs. And you wouldn’t listen!” Derek’s voice breaks. “I don’t know if you loved the drugs or whatever control you think they gave you more than me-- I don’t know that. But that’s what I think.”

He covers his face with his hands, sinking down, and when he speaks again his voice is wracked with the pain and stress of seven years of memories and regret. “We were done. I got that. But what kind of alpha would I have been if I didn’t try everything in my power-- right, wrong, or otherwise, to keep you alive. How could I possibly say that I loved you or ever deserved you if I didn’t play every card I had, pressed every advantage, used everyone in my network to save you? How could I have lived with myself?” He looks up at Stiles. “You were gone and I accepted that, but what I could never accept is that you were going to die like the others. Like my dad.”

“You left me.” Stiles grounds out.

Derek just looks at him. “I begged. I pleaded. I bargained-- with you and with God. Neither of you would listen to me. So when Mason Dorf promised me moderation in exchange for his re-election, I made a deal with the Devil and promised him my support in exchange for cutting off your supply. In exchange for your life.” His eyes harden as he looks up at the omega he loved above anything in his entire world. “And I don’t care if you and the entire world think I sold my soul to do it. If it keeps you alive, it’s worth it.”

Stiles looks at him, taking in this information solemnly. “Is this true?”

Derek looks back, “We don’t lie to each other.”

Stiles sighs. “You were wrong. You don’t learn.”

“Neither do you,” Derek says lowly.

“That’s accurate,” Stiles agrees. “But I’m trying.” He sighs. “Derek, this was never going to work. My life was never Mason’s to bargain with. So, you’ve cut off my supply-- or we’re pretty sure you did. I don’t even know who owns my papers now, since the repudiation.”

Derek motions to where Stiles’ scar is hidden under his hoodie. “I could make a legal argument I still do.”

“You probably could,” Stiles reasons. “But there is no legislation in the world that’s going to keep me from going on to the next dumbass thing. You’ve made my entire gender’s lives more difficult because you just can’t see the big picture. How is that fair?”

“This was never about fair,” Derek says.

“I get that,” Stiles says tiredly. “It never is with alphas.”

“You couldn’t hate me any more than you already do,” Derek says. “So I did what I had to.”

“I can’t let you keep doing this, Derek,” Stiles says. “You realize that, right?”

“I get that you’re never going to understand,” Derek says wearily.

“Oh, I understand,” Stiles says. “I pushed you because that’s what I do and you pushed back with overkill because that’s what you do. I just-- I need to fix this.” He pauses. “You were right about one thing-- I wasn’t ready to talk before. I wasn’t ready to bargain.” He eyes Derek. “I am now.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek asks, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m saying you fucked with a lot of peoples’ lives,” Stiles says. “And you claim you did it because I was dying.”

“You were,” Derek growls. “What do you call last night?”

“Bad choices on my part,” Stiles says. “Mason couldn’t offer you what you wanted, Derek. But I can. You need to find a way to reverse this shit. You need to get us out of this legislation and you need to stop fucking with our rights. If this wasn’t all a power grab, what do you care?”

“And open the door for you to start up again?” Derek seethes. “I don’t think so.”

“I won’t,” Stiles says, leveling his eyes at Derek. “I won’t start up again, but you need to fix this. The drugs are too far into my system, Laura would be able to tell immediately if I started again. I promise I’ll stay away from all of it-- suppressants, and whatever else. I’ll get help if I need it. I won’t try again. I’ll be good. But it’ll be my life for all of theirs.”

They look at each other for a long moment.

“How can I trust you?” Derek asks.

“We don’t lie to each other,” Stiles says. “Not on purpose anyway.” He sighs. “I’m better than I was, Derek. I promise. I’m not trying to self-destruct anymore. I know I can’t do that. I don’t even want to. And that’s my choice.”

Derek reaches up and puts his hand where Stiles clawed his neck. “You know I won’t ever stop loving you, right?”

Stiles looks back at him, “I hope to God that isn’t true.”

Derek eyes him, his eyes infinitely sad. “You’ll never forgive me.” It’s a statement.

“I can’t,” Stiles says. “And you shouldn’t want me to.”

“I know,” Derek says, standing up.

“Think about what I said,” Stiles says. “Think about not just me, think about who you really are.”

“Who I really was, was your alpha,” Derek says.

“And maybe that was both our problems,” Stiles says. “But it’s not too late for the country. Even if it’s too late for us.”

“Sometimes I wish we’d never met,” Derek says and his eyes are broken. “Sometimes I wish I never knew what it was to love someone this much.”

“I wish that too,” Stiles says. “But I can’t change it. But you can change this.”

Derek turns to leave. "Just..." He pauses. "Just be careful."

"I am," Stiles says. "I am now."


	25. June 13th, 2019

June 5th, 2019  
Extended Stay America Hotel  
Los Angeles, California

Amelia Jones turns to her research assistant, Kevin, in the extended-stay hotel that has been the reporter’s base of operations since the Keane/Hale campaign began.

“There is some element here we’re missing,” the veteran reporter says, looking up from her laptop. “Some part of this story we don’t understand. Hale is up in the polls right now.”

“Barely,” Kevin says. “And he’s the incumbent. It’s to be expected.”

“I know,” Jones says. “But I think there’s something here the Hale’s aren’t telling us. Laura is running Keane’s campaign-- that’s not just politics, that’s personal. She’s brought Stilinski in as well, has Derek’s ex on payroll. There’s something this family is hiding.”

“It’s the Hales,” Kevin snorts. “Like every rich dynasty in America, there are probably lots of things they’re hiding.”

“Something to do with the omega,” Jones says. “It seems like too much of a coincidence that Laura brought him in when their campaigns are heating up. Something the family doesn’t want to get out. Something they don’t want Stilinski to go public about.”

“You think so?” Kevin says, looking skeptical.

“I’ve been following the Hales a long time,” Jones says. “They’re masters at PR-- all of them. Talia kept the whole West coast locked down for years and now Laura is using the same playbook.” She looks up. “I want you to go back through Stilinski’s history. Contact all of the schools he attended, all of the jobs he’s worked. Try to find sources in Seattle, check our sources at the hospitals, here, Berkley, and Seattle. Find out what we’re missing.”

“I will,” Kevin says. “But I think if there was anything out there, we’d have figured it out by now. Or someone would have.”

“Just trust me on this one,” Amelia says. “I remember when the repudiation was announced. They hushed it up as much as possible. I don’t think they even released a statement. Something doesn’t smell right here.”

June 13th, 2019  
Hale Industries Inc Global Headquarters  
Beacon Hills, California

Derek is halfway through his first cup of coffee when the overwhelming scent peonies, blood, figs, and panic briefly proceeds Laura flying into his office and slamming the door shut behind her. She locks it for good measure and just stands there for a moment, all blood drained from her face, shaking visibly. For the second time in as many months, Derek’s mind flashes to everything that could have possibly brought his sister to him in spite of their current circumstances and none of them are good.

“Derek,” Laura gasps out. “Have you seen-- do you know?”

Derek stands up, immediately concerned, “What is it?”

Laura throws a copy of the Washington Post down on his desk, seemingly unable to speak. Derek picks it up, wordlessly. Blaring on the cover in full color is an old photo of him and Stiles from years ago. The headline reads: _Derek Hale Abandoned Mate Following Suicide Attempt_.

_“Recently the Washington Post has discovered current TTF senator, Derek Hale abandoned his omega, Stiles Stilinski, to poverty and public humiliation following a suicide attempt a month after their repudiation was filed in June of 2013._

_An anonymous source at Beacon Hills General Hospital has confirmed to the Washington Post that Stilinski was brought in unresponsive suffering from a severe omega hormone suppressant overdose in the early hours of July 15th, 2013, roughly one month after the senator filed for repudiation. This, of course, brings Senator Hale’s, who is currently engaged in a contentious fight to keep his senate seat against CLP candidate and Stilinski’s current partner, Jared Keane’s, sense of judgement and personal morals into question. Senator Hale and the TTF have been running their campaigns on the byline of uniting America’s families and strengthening traditional bonds. The fact that the senator could abandon his omega in such a state, even post-repudiation, without reaching out with any kind of financial or moral support begs the question of if Hale walks what he talks.”_

Derek looks up at his sister. Laura’s eyes are filled with tears.

“Is this true?” She gasps.

Derek looks back at her. “Yes.”

“So, you knew?” She says. “We never knew. He never said. Nobody told us.”

“I knew,” Derek admits, not allowing himself to look away from his sister’s stricken face.

“How long?” She chokes out, her hands shaking. “How long have you known?”

“Two hours,” Derek says lowly.

“You saw the article two hours ago?” She asks, her lips thin and panicked. “Did you call mom?”

“No,” Derek says, his face tight. “I didn’t know about the article until this second.” He sinks down into his chair, feeling his whole body go numb. He looks up at his sister, “They called me two hours after they found him. After he was taken to the ER. Scott called me.” His voice sounds hollow to his own ears.

“And you did nothing,” Laura hisses as if she can’t even believe what she’s hearing. “You just left him there-”

“Laura--” Derek cuts her off, gazing up at his big sister, his dominant alpha. “Did you think I wouldn’t-- Laura--” Derek’s eyes are pleading. “I tried. Scott called me. I went to him right away. As soon as I found out. They let me in because of right of recall.” He can feel his face growing hot and tired as he’s brought back to that night. “Laura-- I tried.”

July 15th, 2013  
Beacon Hills General Hospital Omega Unit  
Beacon Hills, California

Derek’s entire being has never been more tightly wound. He tries desperately to contain himself, to focus his thoughts, but all he can feel is his entire world slipping out from under him. He flashes his ID to the nurses at the front, willing himself to not alpha-out and destroy the entire place while they sign him in and lead him down the bleak hall to Stiles’ door. All he can smell is decaying honey and bile and acid, and all he can do is feel how this is all his fault. It he hadn’t given Stiles the ultimatum, if he hadn’t signed those damn papers in a last ditch attempt to wake the omega up, Derek could have prevented this. He could have been there to stop this. And what if it was already too late? What if Scott had been wrong and Stiles had already slipped away the way Derek’s father had slipped away while Derek had been at school and his mother had been in DC? What if Derek would never hold his omega again, see him smile, hear his voice? What if Stiles had already left Derek and this world for good?

 _I’ll do anything_ , Derek prays, _I’ll be anything. I’ll try harder. I won’t ever let him go again, just let him be okay._

He pushes through the door and sees Stiles’ too thin, limp form propped up, an IV stuck in his arm, an enormous hospital gown sagging off one of his omega’s shoulders. This is almost too painful and Derek doesn’t want to see this. Doesn’t want to remember Stiles’ doe eyes staring at him unfocused and yellow from the hospital pillow. Doesn’t want to take in the massive black scar on Stiles’ neck.

“Stiles!” He rushes to the omega’s side immediately. He closes the omega’s small form in his arms, tears running down his face, seeking Stiles’ pulse with his fingers, inhaling the omega’s decaying scent. He’s alive. Hurt and weakened but alive.

“Derek,” Stiles voice is low and gravely, like he’s been screaming. “Derek.”

The omega’s long fingers are in Derek’s hair. Derek stares around desperately, pushing back the omega’s hospital gown to reveal his slender back. The skin is a sickening translucent color and his veins are black.

“Are you okay?” Derek demands, searching Stiles’ face desperately.

“I’m fine,” Stiles’ speech is slurred, slower that Derek has ever heard it. “I’m fine.”

“What did the doctor say?” Derek demands this despite having been fully briefed by Stiles’ attending physician on the phone the way over to the hospital.

“It’ll get out of my system,” Stiles says, his eyes still unfocused. “It’ll take a day or so. They have me on a drip.” Stiles lifts his arm with the IV up clumsily.

“Oh, Stiles,” Derek leans down and tenderly kisses Stiles’ arm where the IV is desecrating his omega’s perfect skin. He leans forward and kisses the omega’s blacked mating scar reverently, gently, with the barest touch of his lips. He feels Stiles’ fingers weakly weave through his hair and watches, fascinated as the scar slowly turns from the deadest black to a deep ruby. Stiles is still staring out the window, unfocused and unblinking.

Derek buries his face in the omega’s chest, wrapping his arms around the frail body. “It’ll be okay,” He says. “You’re going to be okay. We’ll get you home and I’ll quit my job. I’ll be there all of the time. We’re going to get you better. Whatever you need.”

The omega’s hands still in Derek’s hair. He squints down at Derek, “What are you talking about?”

“When they say it’s okay for you to go home,” Derek says, stroking Stiles’ face gently. “I’ll be with you. You won’t be alone. I’ll stay home with you.”

“Home?” Stiles’ voice sounds hollow. The omega’s hands fall away from Derek. “I’m going back to Scott’s.”

“What?” Derek sits up and looks at him, his heart beginning to start up again. “Don’t be ridiculous, Stiles. You need to stop this. It’s time for you to come back home. Where you belong.”

Stiles just stares back at him as if looking at a stranger. “You repudiated me. I got the paperwork. We talked about this. You said this wasn’t working.”

“I was trying to wake you up,” Derek says, stricken. “I was trying to make you understand--”

“Oh, I understood,” Stiles says slowly. “I understand better than you do.”

“This is my fault,” Derek says, his eyes desperate to make Stiles understand. “I’m sorry, and this is all my fault.”

Stiles actually laughs at this. It’s a cold laugh, the haunting laugh of something already dead. “You think this is your fault?” He looks at Derek and his eyes are those of a stranger. “You think I did this because of you?” He shakes his head. “Don’t flatter yourself. This has nothing to do with you.”

Derek stares back at his omega, this creature who is staring at him with such cold indifference, as if he never loved him, as if Derek never mattered. “Stiles, whatever it was, we’ll work past it.”

“We’re not going to work past this,” Stiles says, his voice raw and incredulous. “I’m not going to get past this-- ever. You were right. We’re done. This isn’t working and it hasn’t worked for a long time.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Derek says, his eyes desperately trained to Stiles’ scar. “You’re tired right now, from the drugs--”

“My system is more used to the drugs right now than your scent,” Stiles says, looking at Derek like he doesn’t quite know the alpha. “I’m thinking clearly for the first time in months. You were right. It was stupid of me to hang on like this.”

“I was wrong,” Derek says, hearing the raw panic in his voice, “I was wrong to repudiate you and I was wrong to let you think I was letting you go-- letting us go. I never thought you’d actually leave. I thought you’d fight for me. You’d fight for us.” He hears his voice break. “But all you did was fight against me.”

“That’s the only thing that makes sense to me, now,” Stiles says, his voice bitter. “You left me. You repudiated me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Accept that I’m an idiot,” Derek says desperately. “Come back home with me. Where you belong. We can fix this. I’ll be better. I promise.”

“You might be able to be better,” Stiles says slowly. “But I can’t. You were right. I fucked up. And I may never be able to get it together.”

“Don’t say that,” Derek says, feeling the tears falling freely now. “I didn’t mean any of that. I was angry. So were you.”

“Still,” Stiles says, turning to look out the window. “You were right. I understand that now.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, and he reaches out to gently touch the omega’s neck. “You still love me.”

“What?” Stiles reaches up and numbly touches where Derek’s fingers are resting on his scar.

“You still love me,” Derek repeats, pressing harder on the scar.

A flash of what can only be interpreted as panic flashes through the omegas’ eyes and Stiles is numbly pulling himself out of bed, away from Derek’s hand, pulling the IV with him. He hobbles over to the sink, and stares at his reflection in the mirror. He reaches up and touches the ruby scar, abject horror registering on his face.

“You!” Stiles turns around, furious. “You did this!”

“We both did this,” Derek says, walking over to the shaking omega. “This isn’t over.”

“Get out!” Stiles’ voice is biting. “Get out, now!”

“Stiles, be reasonable!” Derek cries, trying to reach out to the omega.

“Don’t you touch me!” Stiles seethes, “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again! How could you? How could you leave me and then do this to me now?!”

“Stiles, this is you too,” Derek pleads.

“I don’t care,” Stiles says, his eyes flashing. “I hate you-- don’t you understand that? I hate you for what you did to me-- what you did to us! I never want to see you again.”

“You don’t mean that,” Derek says, desperately, feeling his whole world slip through his hands. “You don’t.”

“If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the doctors.” Stiles says, hobbling back to his bed. “I swear to God I will have them throw you out.”

“Stiles,” Derek says.

“Go now.” Stiles voice is filled with rage.

June 13th, 2019  
Hale Industries Inc Global Headquarters  
Beacon Hills, California

“And so I left,” Derek says, his voice tired as he finishes the whole sorry tale. “And I hadn’t seen him since. Not until you brought him onboard the campaign.”

Laura is crying in earnest now. “Oh, Derek.” she says.

“I didn’t mean to repudiate him,” Derek says lowly. “Not really. I thought he’d come to his senses and I’d recall him and everything would be fine. Well, not fine, but we’d work on it. But he wouldn’t come back.” Derek looks up at his big sister, his eyes filled with tears. “I tired, Laura. I promise you, I tried.”

“Derek,” Laura says, through her tears. “You had to know the repudiation would break him.”

“I didn’t think he’d look at it as permanent,” Derek says softly. “Not when he said he loved me. Not when he knew he was mine. I was young and stupid. So stupid.”

“Oh Derek,” Laura leans over and hugs him. “I know.”

“Promise me you’ll take care of him, Laura,” Derek says into his sister’s hair. “Promise me whatever happens with the campaign, whatever happens with these laws, you’ll make sure he’s okay. I couldn’t bear it-- I just, I can’t lose him the way I almost lost him.”

“I promise, Derek,” Laura says. “If it’s in my control, I’ll try to look after him.”

“That’s all I care about,” Derek says. “That’s all I want.”


	26. June 13th, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meds by Placebo 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4D9plSro6U
> 
> "I was alone, falling free  
> Trying my best not to forget  
> What happened to us, what happened to me  
> What happened as I let it slip”

June 13th, 2019  
Derek’s estate  
10:30 PM  
Beacon Hills, California

He had hoped and prayed and stopped believing in God and kept praying anyway he wouldn’t ever have to run scared from anything ever again. But he had never really stopped looking over his shoulder, never really stopped contingency planning, searching obsessively for escape routes, and playing ‘Where’s Waldo’ with red flags. And then the Washington Post hit his news ticker at 6:00 am this morning. Stiles knows this isn’t game over-- it would be way easier if it was. Logically, his strategist’s brain is already in gear: they need to put out a statement, they need to spin the media away from this narrative, they need to get focus the election back on the issues ASAP--

And then Stiles’ brain just dies mid-plot and all he can do is relive waking up in the hospital and not remembering the last 48 hours. All he can think is how he’d been running scared for months, for years even and he was sure that time death would finally catch him. All he can do is remember back to the years he lived in terror, hearing the memories of his isolated childhood in his head, again and again, so loud, so undefeatable there are times he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t focus, and couldn’t live with his own consciousness. 

He’s not sure how he ends up in a Lyft wearing sunglasses and a hoodie despite the late hour, and he’s not sure how he ends up hopping the all-too-familiar fence around Derek’s property. He finds himself banging on the back door, furtively looking around for the neighbors. 

Derek opens the door, still wearing work clothes. He takes in Stiles’ sunglasses, hoodie, and pale face before wordlessly stepping aside and letting the omega step in. 

“Why didn’t you just use the key?” Derek looks at him, “It’s still in the same place.” 

Stiles takes off his sunglasses, following Derek into the kitchen. “You didn’t change the locks.” It’s a statement. 

Derek is leaning into the fridge, grabbing a bottle of cold water. He hands it to Stiles. 

“Nobody did.” He says. “Laura, my mom-- everyone’s spare keys are still hidden in the same places.” 

Stiles opens the water, grateful to have something to do with his hands. “The Hales love progress but they hate change.” 

Derek pauses, “We all thought you were going to come home.” He levels his gaze at Stiles. “How are you?” 

“Hiding,” Stiles says, wiping his mouth. 

“From?” 

“The press, Laura, Cora, your mom--” Stiles pauses. “Jared. They’ve all been blowing up my phone since 6 am. I’ve been running from coffee shop to coffee shop trying to avoid being caught.” He looks at Derek. 

“So you came here?” Derek asks, his face steady. 

“Yeah,” Stiles laughs ruefully. “This house was always the best place in the world to hide. And I guess…” 

“Old instincts die hard,” Derek finishes for him.

Stiles looks up at Derek, “I didn’t have anything to do with this.” 

“I know that,” Derek says. 

“And how do you know that?” Stiles asks. 

“I know you,” Derek nods. “I know how private you are. You don’t like anybody knowing anything about you. And if you didn’t tell Laura or Lydia about this, I doubt you’d tell the Post.” 

Stiles looks back at the alpha, his voice low, “What are you going to do, Derek?” 

Derek pauses, his face unreadable, “What can I do?” 

“Well, you could sue them for libel,” Stiles says, reasonably. 

“Why would I do that?” Derek asks, not breaking his gaze with Stiles. “They didn’t print anything that wasn’t true. If anything, I’m going to get on the phone with our family lawyers tomorrow, have them figure out who invaded your privacy at the hospital and have Laura sue the shit out of them.” 

“You didn’t abandon me,” Stiles says quietly. “I mean-- not in the way they mean.” 

“It’s still my fault,” Derek says, running a tired hand through his hair. “I was your alpha. I was responsible for you. At the end of the day, the buck stopped with me.” His voice is quiet. “I deserve whatever vitriol the public is going to throw at me.” 

“Yeah, you do,” Stiles says. “But not for this. You deserve it for what you’re doing with him.” Stiles pauses, “I just… I don’t know what to do.” He looks up at Derek, trying to quell the panic rising inside. “I don’t think it was anyone from our campaign-- nobody knew and I mean, I never wanted anyone to know and now everyone knows and--” He breaks off, his eyes wide with anxiety.

“Hey,” Derek says, coming over and reaching out for Stiles. “Hey, it’s okay.” He runs a hand down Stiles’ shoulder and guides them both into the living room, down on their old favored couch. He looks at Stiles, “There’s nothing they can do to you that you can’t fix.”

Stiles just looks back at him, his eyes red. 

“You know you’re brilliant and resourceful and strong,” Derek continues, looking down at him. “You can spin this. You can make them obsess about something else. You can make this go away.” 

“I never wanted to be in this position,” Stiles says miserably. “Now the whole country knows--” 

“I know,” Derek sighs, running a soothing hand down his back. “I told Laura to send you away from all of this. As soon as I knew you were back I asked her to keep you away from the campaign. I told her it wasn’t good for you. I told her if she cared about you, she’d send you away from the election and the press.” He pauses. “Send you away from me.” 

“You knew they were going to dig this up,” Stiles says lowly. “You were scared this would come out.” 

“Not for me,” Derek says, his broad thumb rubbing at the base of Stiles’ skull. “My family and half the country had already made up their minds I was an evil alpha for what I did to you-- and I’m not even saying they’re wrong. Any alpha whose omega ended up like you deserves whatever’s coming to him, and I’m not exempting myself from that.” He sighs, looking down at the floor. “If anything I deserve it worse than anyone because I had every resource at my hands, every opportunity to do this the right way, and you still…” He swallows. “You still almost died. And now this.” He closes his eyes. “All I ever wanted to do was protect you and I still can’t.” 

“Derek,” Stiles says, his voice strained. “I almost died because I wanted to die. I was actively gunning for it.” He looks at the alpha squarely. “For a long time you were the only part of my life that ever felt right to me, that I wanted to live for, but even that wasn’t enough. I’ve told you, this wasn’t about you. This was about me and my fucked-up brain. This was about me thinking I was just born defective and I would never get better. After a while, I was so tired and had been running from my own mind for so long, I stopped even trying to fight it.”

He swallows, looking into the alpha’s face, his voice quiet and hoarse. “I loved you so much. I wish I could have kept it together for you.” Stiles is trying desperately to swallow, to put up mental walls against the years of regret and loneliness and isolation that are threatening to break through into his voice. “For us. I wish we could have had the life I promised you. But I couldn’t… I tried hard-- really hard, but I just couldn’t.” 

Derek’s strong arms close over him, soothing the omega to his warm chest, cradling Stiles close. Stiles leans against his familiar bulk, feeling the tears he refuses to let fall, sting his eyes.

“You were sick,” Derek says, soothingly. “It’s not your fault. It’s okay.” He runs his broad fingers through Stiles’ hair. “It’s okay.” The alpha’s voice is filled with pain. “I should have never left you. I held you every night for over a year while you smelled of drugs and decay and I was sure every night that you were dying. And I thought I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t take it one more moment. But I should have stayed. I should have never let you leave.” He takes a shaky breath. “I wished every night for years I was holding you, even if you were dying. I was terrified that you were out there alone. At least if you were here, if you would have..." He swallows, "If you would have died you would have been with me rather than out there on your own, alone.” 

Stiles looks up at Derek, “You don’t even understand how destructive I was for you.” He shakes his head. “You don’t even understand all the ways I warped you. I made you every bit as sick as I am. Maybe even sicker because I didn’t take this fight outside.” 

Derek looks back at him, “I loved you--” 

Stiles pushes back. “And it made you a monster. Fuck. I already was one. I was already living in hell, but you--” He pauses, his eyes growing hard. “Look at you now. Look at what you’ve become.”

Derek’s face hardens as well, “I didn’t become anything.” He says, his voice filled with veiled viciousness. “I was always the alpha who was going to start a war for you. I was always the alpha who would defy anyone and go to any length to protect you. That’s always been who I am. And you’ve always known this. That’s why you chose me.” 

“I did,” Stiles says, his voice angry. “But I loved you because you always used your power to protect people, Derek, to stand up for the people who don’t have the resources or education or connections to stand up for themselves. Your whole family was about that. I never dreamed you’d do what you’re doing now. And I can’t believe you.” 

“I am the only one who has gotten Mason to even come to the table,” Derek shoots back. “I’m trying to keep him from irrevocably damaging the country.” 

“You were trying to control me--” Stiles says, his voice rising.

“Don’t you think somebody fucking should step in when you’re actively trying to kill yourself--” Derek shouts back. 

They both look down. Stiles cell phone is ringing again. Jared Keane’s name flashes on the screen.


	27. June 13th, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe from Miss Saigon
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QYwTPo0ECg
> 
> “Am I fooling myself  
> If I've already lost you?  
> Nothing's changed, you're still mine,  
> We can try to ignore this.  
> But if she has come back in your life,  
> Well then maybe, you were never mine.
> 
> And yet my heart cries maybe,  
> It's a trick, it's a lie,  
> She's just trying to use you”

June 13th, 2019  
Derek Hale for US Senate Campaign Headquarters  
10:30 PM  
Beacon Hills, California

Boyd is working late, staring blankly at the screen of his Macbook Pro, trying for the umpteenth time to write a statement for the press about the Post article. But how could you encapsulate the last seven years of hell-- years and events that were nobody’s business, least of all Boyd’s-- into a statement to the public that sent the right message? And what was the right message at this point? Would the right thing be to share more information? Shed more light on the situation in hopes the voters would exonerate Derek? The base already had. The court of public opinion was predictably split down partisan lines with the TTF supporters saying as a repudiated omega, Stiles had no right to expect Derek to step in and offer any support and the CLP supporters saying this incident demonstrated, once again, Senator Hale’s lack of empathy and understanding of middle America. Boyd had come to the conclusion long ago that most of the time in politics everyone was wrong, so how was it now, with this sordid bit of news, that everyone had the facts wrong and was still, in some kind of twisted way, right? 

Was the right thing to do to try to deflect back to the issues? To somehow try to make this vicious gossip irrelevant? And in the current climate, with the new laws, was that even possible? And where the fuck were Derek and Stiles in all of this? They had both gone radio silent, no doubt busy pouring gasoline all over themselves and each other and this whole fucking campaign because apparently that’s just how the two of them had decided to roll right now. 

Boyd looks up from his empty word document to see the very last person he wants to see stepping into his office, closing the door behind her. 

Kate Argent shoves her cellphone under Boyd’s nose. “What the hell is this?” 

Boyd looks at the screen. There’s a tabloid photo of Derek getting coffee in a low V-neck shirt, four deep red gashes down the side of his neck. 

He looks back at the furious omega, “What do you think that is?” 

“Tell me Derek got a cat,” Kate demands. 

Boyd leans back in his chair, “We both know there’s only one stray that’s ever got close enough to leave marks like that on Derek.” 

She positively glares at Boyd. “Have you smelled Derek?” 

Boyd raises his eyebrows, “You haven’t?” 

Kate flushes, “He won’t return my texts or my calls. I thought he was in DC again.” 

Boyd just looks at her. “He’s not.” 

“Well, I can see that now,” Kate snaps, plunking her slender frame in a chair, and crossing her legs angrily. “That little bitch,” she snipes. “I bet he planted the Post’s article. Trying to get sympathy. Trying to get attention.” 

Boyd sighs. “I knew Stiles. I know Stiles. This isn’t one of his plays.” 

“How would you know?” Kate snaps. 

“Because Stiles is all about running from his past, pretending this never happened,” Boyd says. “He wouldn’t go to the press about this. I bet he can barely admit it happened to himself.” 

“He’s a disgruntled ex-mate,” Kate says, her eyes flashing. “He’s trying to destroy Derek because he’s jealous.” She pauses, making a face, “Derek didn’t want him.” 

Boyd stares at the omega for a long moment, then he opens his mouth, “I know you know that isn’t true.” 

“Of course it’s true!” Kate snaps back. 

“I warned you,” Boyd says, quietly. “I warned you coming into this, the bite is still red. The bond hasn’t broken and for all I know, it never will. I told you that.” 

“You don’t know that it’s still red!” Kate says. “Surely after all this time, after Derek declared for the TTF, it can’t still be red.” 

“I wouldn’t bet my omega’s life on it, but I have no evidence to suggest anything has changed,” Boyd says tiredly. 

“Look,” Kate says, her eyes wide, “I know you don’t like me.” 

“I don’t.” Boyd is unapologetic. 

“I know you only tolerate my presence because you think I can hand Derek the election, and I can,” Kate continues. “But can’t you see how much better I am for him? I’ve supported him and his career. All his mother and sisters do is bitch and harp on him. That omega was a headcase drug addict. I love him. I’m the one who encouraged him to cut off his toxic, unsupportive family. Laura threw a fucking wishbone at him, for God’s sake--” 

“To be fair,” Boyd reasons, “She only threw that wishbone because the carving knife wasn’t within arm’s reach.” 

“That’s not the point--” 

“It would have been if she’d gotten a hold of that knife.” 

“Boyd, you know his family has been horrible to him,” Kate says. “You know Cora was just on stage with Taylor Swift at the Staples Center last night telling the crowd her brother and his new law can go fuck themselves. You know what this has done to him.” 

“Kate,” Boyd says, sighing. “I don’t have a dog in this fight--” 

“Bullshit,” Kate snarls. “We both do. If we can pull Derek through this election, you’ll be the chief of his staff and I’ll be Second Lady. You can bring all the moderation you want to the administration.” 

“We both know there’s no moderating this administration, Kate,” Boyd says. 

“Then why are you here?” Kate demands. 

“Because I don’t know what other choice we have,” Boyd says. “Mason’s heading for re-election. We have no proof this is going to be a fair fight, and it’s my job to prepare for the worst.” 

“Then help me help you,” Kate says. “I know Derek will listen to you. I know you can make him see that I’m the right thing. For him and for the country.” 

Boyd just stares at her, “What planet are you living on where you think Derek listens to anyone, let alone me?” 

“He loves me,” Kate says, her eyes shining fervently. “He wouldn’t have stayed with me all this time if he didn’t. He’s just confused right now.” 

“Oh, I think we’re all a little confused right now,” Boyd mutters, he looks squarely at the omega. “You know what happened. Derek told me he confided in you a year or more ago. You know he never intended to leave Stiles.” 

“I know he feels guilty,” Kate sniffs. “But that’s mostly because his family has been so rotten about all of this.” 

“I can’t help you if you’re going to be this kind of delusional,” Boyd says flatly. “Kate, cut your losses. Derek is headed right back to where he started because Stiles isn’t the only one with an addiction and getting between the two of them has only ever resulted in a few black eyes, three broken bones, and a bullshit law!” He lets out a great gust of a sigh, “I’m telling you now to get out while you still have some dignity.” 

“I won’t,” Kate says, setting her jaw stubbornly. “You’re weak, Boyd. We can still pull this off. We can still have the Vice Presidency. If you’re not going to save Derek from that omega, I will.” 

“Kate, he is not going to like you getting involved,” Boyd says. “If you want to send Derek packing permanently then by all means, get involved with Stiles, but if you want to try and salvage anything of whatever the hell you’re calling what’s going on with Derek and be there when Stiles inevitably shreds him again, then stay out of this.” 

“You’re weak and short-sighted,” Kate snaps, standing up. “Trust me, Boyd. You don’t want to make an enemy of me.” 

“I’m trying to help you,” Boyd rolls his eyes.

“If you really cared about Derek and about this country, you would actually help me rather than just sitting there and letting that lying addict take over Derek’s life again,” Kate turns to leave. “This isn’t over.”


	28. June 13th, 2019

June 13th, 2019  
Derek’s estate  
Beacon Hills, California

Stiles hadn’t anticipated how hard it was to physically be with Derek, to have the alpha sharing space and air with him. He can feel his physiology change in a way he’s never felt with another person, another alpha, sensitizing his skin until it feels like one big bruise. The omega can’t seem to keep air in his lungs, it keeps rushing out silently leaving a leaden weight on his chest in its wake. And he can feel it. He has felt it it like some dead thing that took up residence in his chest the night Derek told him goodbye. Stiles’ voice sounds like that of a stranger’s to his own ears as he hears himself talking to Derek, answering and arguing with the alpha, like they’re just two normal people, like Derek hadn’t taken a part of his soul back when Stiles had been young and lost and eighteen, like Stiles hadn’t spent the last five years physically aching for Derek’s laugh, for his voice, for his touch. Stiles had always hung on to this idea that he would get over Derek, that he could be better, stronger somehow-- but he’s emotionally honest enough to admit he isn’t there. He’s smart enough to be terrified he will never get there. 

The alpha is glaring at the cellphone as if it’s done him some great personal wrong. 

He looks up at Stiles from where they sit, combatively squared off on the couch, “You going to get that?” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I guess I can’t put this off any longer.” He unconsciously shifts away from the alpha who is having such a physical reaction on his traitorous body in an attempt to clear his head. “What?” He snaps into the phone, raising it to his ear. 

“Stiles!” Keane’s voice is desperate and relieved. “Where are you?” 

Stiles sidesteps the question, feeling Derek’s eyes boring into him from the other side of the sofa, “I’m fine.”

“Laura and Lydia have been desperate. We couldn’t find you anywhere. You scared the hell out of me!” Keane’s voice is thick with anxiety and Stiles can feel himself growing annoyed, his neck muscles tightening painfully. 

As if the alpha can sense this, Stiles feels Derek’s strong, broad fingers come up and begin to massage the tight knots in his sensitive omega neck. Christ, if it doesn't feel like heaven but Stiles frowns at him and makes himself jerk out of Derek’s grasp. Derek withdraws his hand, glowering into space. Stiles turns back to the phone call, but he’s sure Derek’s sensitive alpha ears can hear everything Keane is saying anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles lies. “I just didn’t want to talk to anyone.” 

Keane sighs audibly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened to you. This would have never happened if I hadn’t brought you on to the campaign.”

“You didn’t bring me on. I agreed to come on because it was the right thing to do.” Stiles looks pointedly at Derek and he can see a muscle twitch in the alpha’s neck at this. “I should have known the press would dig up whatever they could. I just… I guess I stupidly thought my medical records were safe.” 

“Lydia is livid,” Keane says. “We’ll make this right, Stiles-” 

“You think that’s possible?” Stiles interrupts, his voice hard. 

“If it is I’ll sure as hell find a way,” Keane answers. There’s a pause. “Stiles, are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles says reflexively. “I’m fine.” 

Another long pause. “Is it true?”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Stiles’ voice is leaden and he can feel the alpha shifting next to him. Their eyes meet. Derek’s face is clouded.

“Lydia says if it’s true she didn’t know and Laura isn’t talking. She’s been on the phone with Hale lawyers all day.” Keane says. “Listen--” the beta’s voice softens, “ I know it’s none of my business, but I want you to know I really care about you.” 

“You shouldn’t,” Stiles says woodenly, turning he gaze away from Derek’s. “I told you that from the start.” 

“I wish you would stop saying that,” Keane says. His is voice filled with concern and Stiles can’t fucking stand it.

“Why?” Stiles asks angrily. “It’s the truth. Fuck. Who cares? This just confirms what the base already thinks. Who cares if it’s true?” 

“I’m worried about you, Stiles,” Jared says. “Fuck the base and fuck the campaign.” He pauses. “So, it’s not true.” 

“Oh, I was trying to kill myself all day long,” Stiles laughs bitterly. “I’ve been on those fucking suppressants since I was old enough to get them. But don’t think Derek had anything to do with this.” 

“How could he not?” Keane’s voice is hard. “He repudiated you and a month later--” 

“You think that was the first time?” Stiles snaps from the corner of his eye he can see Derek’s whole body stiffen. 

“It wasn’t,” Stiles says. “It was just the last time.” He pauses. “He tried to save me. I didn’t want to be saved.” 

“He left you,” Jared says, his voice thick. “And now you see what he really-- a fucking neo-con.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, purposefully not looking at Derek. “He did. And he is. You don’t think I know that?”

“I think you have a blind spot when it comes to him,” Keane says. “He didn’t love you. He just can’t stand to have something out of his control.”

“I know that, Jared,” Stiles says, his voice tight. 

“Where are you?” Jared says, his voice soft. “I’ll come pick you up.” 

“No,” Stiles says. “How is the campaign going to respond to this?” 

“Depends on what you want,” Keane says. “Lydia thinks we should issue a statement before the other camp.” 

“They haven’t yet?” Stiles looks at Derek and the alpha shakes his head. 

“No,” Keane says. “I think they’re waiting for our response so they can spin it.” 

Derek scowls at this.

“I’m pretty sure this won’t come as a surprise to them,” Stiles says.

“What do you mean?” Jared asks. 

“I mean that I think Boyd knew,” Stiles says, his voice tired. “And if Boyd knew he had to be anticipating this. He’s not stupid.” 

“So, what do you think they’ll do?” Jared asks.

“I don’t know,” Stiles says. “This is a distraction from the issues so unfortunately, I don’t know if this is just going to go away.” 

“It’s going to be okay, Stiles,” Jared says. “I’m here for you. We all are.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Stiles says. “Until then just-- I don’t fucking know. I don’t even know if I care anymore.” 

“I’m worried about you,” Jared says. “Let me come pick you up.”

“The crisis is over now, Jared,” Stiles says. “I’m not the same as I was five years ago. I’ve worked this hard to pull myself up and I’m not going back to that place. I couldn’t if I tried. I promise you I’m fine. I just need to decompress.”

“Well, okay,” Keane says reluctantly. “Just call me if you need anything at all. Anytime.” 

“Okay,” Stiles says. “Don’t worry.”


	29. June 13th, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I Hate You I Love You
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Rb7pnjbe4Q
> 
> "Feeling used, but I'm  
> Still missing you and I can't  
> See the end of this just wanna feel your kiss  
> Against my lips and now all this time  
> Is passing by, but I still can't seem to tell you why  
> It hurts me every time I see you  
> Realize how much I need you"

June 13th, 2019  
Derek’s estate  
Beacon Hills, California

Stiles hangs up the phone feeling infinitely screwed and exhausted and just stares at the blank screen in his hand for a long moment. He can feel the alpha’s heated gaze on him.

“Don’t,” Stiles says, his voice low. “Just— don’t.”

“What?” Derek’s voice has the consistency of gravel.

“Don’t look like that,” Stiles says.

“How do I look?” Derek growls.

“Like you want to kill him or me—or both.” Stiles mutters.

Derek sighs. “You don’t get to police how I feel about this.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Maybe not.”

Another long pause.

“He seems nice,” Derek says, his voice tight.

“He is,” Stiles agrees tiredly. “Nicer than I deserve.”

“Stiles, you were never in the market for nice,” Derek says, and he sounds almost fond.

Stiles sighs again, “Maybe I can’t change that.” He pauses. “But I can want to.”

Derek opens his mouth hesitantly, “Boyd tells me Keane’s in love with you.”

“And how would Boyd know?” Stiles sighs.

“Lydia.”

“Didn’t realize they were still speaking,” Stiles says.

“She knows Boyd isn’t the enemy,” Derek says. “She and Boyd have always thought it was their job to keep Laura and I from starting World War Three.”

“Well, they suck at it,” Stiles smirks.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice is low and serious, he looks at the omega from across the couch. “Do you love him?”

Stiles looks back. “Do you love Kate?”

Derek’s face is a mass of exhaustion. “That’s a stupid question.” The alpha says.

Stiles turns back to staring in front of him. “Exactly.” He says. A pause. “You should, you know.”

“What?” Derek asks.

“Love Kate,” Stiles says. “She obviously loves you.”

“You think so?” Derek asks and he sounds about a hundred-years-old.

“I’ve seen enough pictures of myself to recognize the look on someone else,” Stiles says, feeling his whole body constrict, and his scar seems to burn from under its latex covering.

“I told her it’s useless,” Derek confesses, and Stiles can feel him watching carefully.

Stiles turns to Derek, “Then you’re an idiot.”

Derek glares back. The alpha leans over, slowly, deliberately, giving Stiles time to flinch away. Stubbornly, Stiles maintains eye-contact, glaring at the alpha. Derek reaches over and peels off the latex on the omega’s scar, revealing the red mark. It’s the wet color of a half-eaten raspberry sweet.

“I’m an idiot,” Derek says, looking at the scar.

Stiles glares at Derek. The truth is, he has spent five years waiting for it to turn back to black. He thought for sure in the months after he moved to Seattle he’d wake up and one day it would go back to its former hideous, dead appearance. And then after Derek had announced for the TTF and Stiles had watched the whole awful, shocking thing happen on the news he’d ran to the bathroom in his shitty studio apartment, looked in the mirror and had expected to see the bite had changed. It hadn’t. Then, when Derek had endorsed Dorf, Stiles had another moment where he thought for sure it would blacken. It hadn’t. And Stiles can’t understand it.

Stiles turns away from Derek, growling viciously, “Fucking fascist.” He stands up. “I fucking hate you.”

Derek stands up too, his eyes flashing. “So you’re just going to leave again. That’s what you do.”

“No, Derek,” Stiles snaps. “That’s what we do.”

“And how has that worked out?” Derek asks.

“Not well so far,” Stiles says, “But one of these days it will.”

“You think so?” Derek asks, his eyes flashing.

“I’m pretty certain of it,” Stiles argues back.

Derek glares at him. “When is the last time you slept?”

“What?” Stiles stares at the alpha, not comprehending the sudden shift in questioning.

“When is the last time you slept?” Derek demands again.

“Why does that matter?” Stiles snaps reflexively.

“Because you smell fucking awful and even if that goddamn beta can’t smell you, I can.” Derek says, walking over, getting into Stiles’ space.

Stiles can feel his skin prick up like he’s entered a cold room. He doesn’t step back. Derek’s scent is beckoning to him like the smells of comfort and home and everything he’s denied himself for five years and his body aches.

“You’re so tired,” Derek says, his voice softening. The alpha reaches up slowly and strokes Stiles’ ear, down his neck.

“Derek—” Stiles starts, but he can feel his voice faltering.

“Just stay with me,” Derek says, his voice suddenly soft and pleading. “Please? In the morning you can go, but just stay here and rest. With me.”

Derek’s strong hands are on Stiles’ back, rubbing at his tight neck and shoulders, and the omega can feel himself melting into the familiar touch. Derek’s fingers and heat are like an old song in Stiles’ head and his body remembers the melody perfectly. He looks up in Derek’s eyes, praying the tears he can feel suddenly stinging them aren’t visible. He’s choking back five years of longing and misery and Derek’s arms are around him, safe and solid and the only home he’s ever known. His face is against the solemn heartbeat he slept on for years and Derek’s scent is enveloping him. He feels himself reaching up, almost without thought, touching the alpha’s hair tentatively. And for a moment Stiles remembers how Derek was his best friend, how before this war started between them, he used to laugh with Derek the hardest and sleep in his arms every night. All of a sudden all he can do is miss the alpha.

“Okay,” he whispers to the alpha’s chest, hating himself. “Okay.”

Derek guides them both upstairs to their former bedroom in some perverse reenactment of their former lives and it feels natural like no time has passed at all. The duvet and pillowcases are still the same ones Stiles picked out years ago and the omega wills himself not to imagine Kate lying on them. The room smells only of Derek—only potently of figs and blood and security. The alpha never stops touching him, never stops letting Stiles feel his warmth and solidity. He gently presses Stiles until the omega is sitting on their old bed before pulling off Stiles’ shirt. Stiles wriggles out of his pants, down to his boxers, not looking at the alpha as he hears Derek pulling off his clothes. It’s dark in the room and all Stiles can see is Derek’s familiar powerful shadow.

Derek pulls back the covers and Stiles scrambles tiredly up to his old side of the bed, the mattress welcoming his form back like an old friend. Stiles lies his side, facing away from the alpha, the first time in years he’s been in a totally dark room. And Derek’s strong hands are there in the blackness, stroking his neck, massaging the endless, painful knots out of his tight shoulders and neck. The alpha’s broad thumbs dig into the base of Stiles’ tense skull the way they used to after Stiles had a final and it’s like the omega’s whole body breathes a sigh of relief.

Derek’s body heat is radiating from his solid bulk and after Stiles’ neck is sufficiently more relaxed, the alpha slips down next to the omega, cradling him against his larger body as if somebody is going to come in the night and tear Stiles from his arms. The fingers of his right hand move over Stiles’ limp form, stroking him, running through his hair and over his tired scalp, while Derek’s left-hand keeps the omega anchored to him. Against his better judgment, Stiles tucks his wet face into Derek’s neck, under the alpha’s jaw where his scent is the strongest and just breathes. He feels Derek’s thumb brush against his lips gently, over his cheeks, and down his neck to his scar. He feels the alpha shift under him, and Derek’s lips are brushing his brow. And Stiles clings to him like the two of them aren’t enemies, like Derek didn’t betray him and everything he’s ever believed in and it doesn’t matter that Stiles is pathetic and weak. For one selfish moment he just wants to rest, just wants to pretend he won’t have to get up tomorrow with the memory of Derek breaking his heart.


	30. June 14th, 2019

June 14th, 2019  
1:00 AM  
Derek’s estate  
Beacon Hills, California

Stiles is dreaming again and it’s not an unfamiliar dream. It’s the dream he keeps returning to after all these years-- Derek’s familiar home arms strong and demanding around his chest, Derek’s breath hot and delicious in his ear, Derek’s agile mouth on his neck, laving at Stiles’ hypersensitive mating scar. This dream Derek always leaves Stiles’ whole body taught and keen, hollow and wanting. Stiles’ skin is aching like he’s just run for his life and his mouth is dry and wanting like he’s been alone in a desert. Every nerve is singing out for the alpha’s touch and this isn’t about arousal as in lust-- this is about longing and being unable to put into words how much he’s missed Derek, how much he needs to be close to his best friend. How he’s been physically deprived without him. 

And Derek’s hands are impossibly strong and yet infinitely tender, pulling at his boxers and coaxing him to full hardness as the omega squirms against the alpha’s solid chest, egging him on with embarrassing whimpers and moans. And Derek knows Stiles’ body so well, has taken time to learn it, to memorize all of his triggers and responses, knows exactly where to touch him, exactly how to give the omega what he needs. They’ve never been able to keep their hands off each other-- they’ve always been better at this than talking. 

Somehow Stiles mouth finds Derek’s in the darkness and they kiss, slowly and leisurely like they have all the time in the world, like there is nothing and nobody but each other. And Derek is whispering in his ear, soft, Derek-scented words and although Stiles hears him, he doesn’t understand them fully, can’t break down the sentences into any meaning other than home and safety. Stiles soaks them up anyways, feeling every word just as acutely as Derek’s hands. 

They fuck slowly this time, Derek stretching him perfectly, fitting inside him like he’s made to be there. The pull of skin and Derek’s gasps in his ear are perfect and Stiles has missed this so much he never wants to wake up. He just clings to Derek, feeling the alpha against him, solid and safe and perfect, anchoring him in a world of chaos and uncertainty. 

It isn’t until Derek’s knot begins to pop and Stiles is coming down from his orgasm that he begins to wake up fully, remember the last day, and realize he’s not dreaming. Derek is gazing down at him in the semi-darkness, covered in a sheen of sweat, panting slightly, pressing Stiles’ body closer to him, pressing himself as deep into Stiles as he can get. 

“Fuck,” Stiles swears, resting his forehead against Derek’s chest. 

Derek is still coming down. He bend his neck to lick at Stiles’ mating scar. The scar is still sensitive, and the sensation is too much for Stiles. 

“Stop that,” Stiles tries to snap this, but he’s too out of breath.

The alpha looks at him. Stiles can feel his face growing hard in response. 

“You know what would be great?” Stiles asks to no one. “If we could stop fighting and fucking everytime we’re in the same room.”

“That’s what we do,” Derek says drowsily, combing an enormous hand through Stiles’ hair. 

Stiles grabs Derek’s hand and removes it. The alpha frowns. 

“Well, we need to stop,” the omega says. 

“I agree,” Derek says, his voice still a little hoarse. “We should stop fighting.” 

“Well that would require you to stop being an asshole and I’m willing to bet that’s never going to happen,” Stiles mutters this while maneuvering his body, trying to figure out how to extricate himself from a situation that wasn’t designed for physical separation. 

“Sure,” Derek’s voice hardens. “I’m the asshole. You’re in complete, deliberate, premeditated denial and I’m the asshole for acknowledging the truth.” 

Stiles just glares in the alpha’s direction and attempts to grab where Derek is connecting both of them, screwing up his face to the inevitable pain, remember how much it hurt to get out of a popped knot last time.

“What are you doing?” Derek snaps, his hand coming down to encircle Stiles’ smaller one. 

Stiles grits his teeth. “You think I’m sticking around?” 

“Stop that!” Derek says, forcing Stiles’ hand away. 

“You didn’t even wake up last time,” Stiles snipes. 

“You could seriously hurt yourself,” Derek says. “Yeah, I looked it up. If fact, you probably did hurt yourself last time. Just stop it. It’ll go down eventually.” 

“I don’t care,” Stiles snaps, pushing Derek’s hand away. “I can’t be stuck like this. I’ve got to go.” He’s starting to hyperventilate now. “I’ve got to get out of here.” 

“Hey,” Derek looks seriously alarmed now. The alpha puts one strong hand up at Stiles’ sensitive neck and begins rubbing the tension out. “You’re okay. It’s okay. Calm down.” 

“I will not calm down!” Stiles says, pushing himself as far away from the alpha as he can get. He doesn’t even care that it hurt to walk for a week after he got himself out of Derek’s knot last time. “I can’t be here, like this, with you!” 

Derek stares at Stiles like he’s just been slapped. “You need to calm down.” 

“Fuck you!” Stiles shoves Derek’s chest as hard as he can while they’re stuck like this, then he slams his fist down again, against Derek’s shoulder for good measure. “And fuck this! Goddamn it, why can’t I stop fucking up like this?!” 

“Stiles--”

“No!” Stiles says. “You can either fuck me or my whole gender but you do not get to do both!” 

“Is that what this is about?” Derek asks. “The legislation?” 

“Why can’t you fucking let this go, Derek?” Stiles almost yells this despite literally being on top of the alpha. “Why can’t you fucking let me go?” 

“You came to me--” Derek says. 

“I know!” Stiles is once again filled with self-hatred. “Do you think I know that?”

“I think you know, but you don’t want to admit it!” Derek snaps back, his voice hostile now. “You don’t want to admit you still love-”

“Don’t you fucking finnish that sentence, Derek--” 

“Why?” Derek asks angrily. “Because it’s not convenient to this new life you’ve created for yourself. Because if you admit you still love me you’d have to admit you don’t love that beta? Because then you’d have to stick around and work this out with me? Because that would be hard?” 

“What the fuck do you know about hard, Derek?” Stiles seethes. “What the fuck do you know about your whole life being one big fight against yourself to do anything, to be anything? What do you know about getting up every single day cursing your own existence, wishing you had never been born? What the fuck do you know about having no control over yourself or your body and about having the one person you trusted leave you and then show the world he had no moral center and he was just as willing as all of them to bend you to his will--”

“I was trying to keep you alive--” Derek shouts. “You were so willing to just throw everything and everyone away including your own life and me with it--” 

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Stiles laughs harshly. “That’s convenient--”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Derek thunders. 

“It means that your life is perfect, Derek!” Stiles spits. “It’s always been perfect, and with me gone it’s even more fucking perfect. You might use me as an excuse for what you’ve done, and maybe that lets you look Laura and your mom in the eye but I’m not buying it. You’re an alpha, Derek. And alphas take power where there is opportunity. And now you’re going to be VP and you have the perfect omega, the one who is everything I could never be--” 

“I don’t love Kate--” Derek interrupts, his eyes flashing. “I’ve never pretended to love Kate.” 

“So, you’re just using her the way you use everyone--” 

“Don’t you fucking dare--” 

“I was never good enough for you, Derek!” Stiles laughs again and it’s terrible and humorless. “Don’t you think I’ve always known that? From day one I’d been waiting for you to wake up and leave me, and then when you did it just enforced what I’d been expecting all along! She can hand you the voters and the donors. She can stand there and support your bullshit policies. She can smile and look beautiful for the press--” 

“You left me!” Derek interrupts, his breath harsh with anger. “I was the one who wasn’t enough for you. Not enough to stop the drugs, not enough to stop killing yourself--” 

“That was never about you!” Stiles snaps. “I was fucked up. I’m still fucked up. Don’t you think I know this?”

“So you hate me for leaving you, but you couldn’t stay either?” Derek challenges. “How the fuck does that work?”

Stiles feels his anger deflating, being replaced with a familiar deep self-loathing. “This was a mistake from the beginning.” He says, his voice low and tired. “Don’t you get that?” He sighs. “You’re right. I had no right to pull you into this in the first place. I know that now.” 

“Stiles--” 

“No.” Stiles stops Derek. “Look, what I went through isn’t exactly unique. This happens to a lot of people. I know that. And they tell you it’s going to get better and they tell you there are people who will help, who will listen, and in some ways they’re right. But the thing they don’t tell you is that nobody can really get you through it but you.” Stiles sighs, “Nobody is going to hold your hand or be able to convince you that your life is worth living but you. Not parents if I had them. Not family. Not you.” Stiles looks up at Derek. “And I always knew it was unfair of me to ask you to try. So I guess I had to go away. I was sick of you seeing the worst of me. I was sick of being the monster. I was sick of being unworthy of you. Of knowing I was unworthy of you. Mostly I was sick of myself.” Stiles looks down again. “Don’t you think I know I have no right to be angry at you about us. About other things? Yes. But about us? No. That was me. It was always me.” Stiles sags against Derek, defeated. “We need to stop this, Derek.” 

“I can’t.” Derek’s voice is quiet. “I know I should for your sake, but I can’t.” Derek swallows. “I guess I’ve just needed you so much I wanted to believe you needed me that much too.” Derek takes a shaky breath. “Maybe I didn’t love you the best, but I tried to love you the most. And I tried, Stiles. I really tried to be good for you. Good to you.” Derek swallows and for a moment he sounds far away. “Dad was dead. Mom and Laura loved the TTF. Cora was a child. But I had you and you were the only in my whole apathetic life I ever gave a damn about. And maybe I’m just one of those broken alphas because you’re the only thing that ever felt real to me.”

Derek looks down at Stiles, “But I don’t know what to tell you when sorry isn’t good enough.” He shakes his head, “And I don’t know what to say when I’ve never lied to you and you won’t believe me anyway. And I may never get over you. And I wish I could sit here and pretend I’m happy that beta recognized the same thing in you that I did, but I can’t. I wish I could be the man that could wish you well with him, but I can’t. I’m not there. I’m never going to get there because all I know, all I understand is who we were together was the best thing I’ve ever been.” 

Derek swallows again, his voice tight, “And I was happy. I wish I was selfless enough to let go of the only thing that ever really made me happy .But I’m not. And I’m sorry that I’m not.”

The alpha is quiet for a long moment and the two of them are just lying there. 

“I don’t know how to fix this, Stiles.” Derek’s voice is small.

“You can’t.” Stiles says flatly. “I don’t think we are meant to.” 

There is a long moment where it’s just the two of them and their conjoined scents and their breathing. 

“I think we just need to stay away from each other.” Stiles says. “Because I can’t keep doing this. Not like this. Not when the facts on the ground are what they are. Not when I know I ruined your life and you're going to keep ruining mine.”


	31. June 15th, 2019

June 15th, 2019  
St. Cecilia’s University   
Beacon Hills, California

Stiles is walking back to his car on campus when a black Rolls Royce pulls up beside him and the back window rolls down. 

“Get in the car, Stiles,” Boyd says, sticking his massive head out the window. 

The door pops open and Stiles shrugs to himself and slides into the plush interior. Boyd is sitting alone, taking up most of the back seat in a three piece suit.

“You want some scotch?” He hands Stiles a glass. 

Stiles looks down at the amber liquid contemplatively, “You here to take me out back somewhere and shoot me, Boyd?” 

The alpha smirks. “Shit. Somebody should with everything you’ve been getting away with.” 

Stiles sighs, “At this point it’d be a favor to me.”

Boyd’s face sobers, “You shouldn’t joke like that, Stilinski.” He says. “You’ve given a lot of people who care about you hell. Me included.”

Stiles grimaces and looks a Boyd over his glass, “You come to ask me to stay away from your campaign?” 

Boyd makes a face, “I might if I thought it would do any good.” He gazes at the omega. “But I know you, Stilinski.” The alpha looks down at his own glass. “Stiles mother-fucking Stilinski. The Helen of Troy of the TTF. The face that launched a thousand ships.” He looks back up at Stiles, “I knew you were trouble the night we met your jailbait ass at that bar, but I had no idea how much trouble you’d be. I’ve seen other alphas scrap for omegas, go to jail for omegas, take a bullet for an omega, but you’re the first omega I’ve ever seen single handedly fuck with a presidential election.” 

Stiles looks down, “I haven’t done that.” 

“Not yet, maybe,” Boyd says knowingly. He pauses. “You know Mason wants Derek for VP.” 

Stiles pauses. “Yeah.” 

“You going to blow up my election, Stiles?” Boyd asks genially. 

“You think I could?” Stiles sounds tired. 

“I know you could,” Boyd nods, taking a sip of his scotch. 

“And how do you imagine that would work?” Stiles mutters, taking a sip of his drink. 

Boyd leans back, considering. “Well, I don’t know.” He pauses. “If Keane gets it in his head to challenge Derek for your papers…” 

“Nobody does that anymore, Boyd,” Stiles says incredulously. 

“Nobody that you know of does that,” Boyd corrects. “It happens in the neighborhoods all the time. And it’s ugly. And it would be ugly if your boy got it in his head to challenge Derek. Ugly for him and ugly for this country.” 

“Jared is not going to--” Stiles is shaking his head. 

“That beta’s been putting on muscle since you’ve joined his campaign,” Boyd says. “You know it’s true. It’s my business to notice things like that. And I’m told the most reasonable explanation for a beta in that position to start hitting the gym like that is because he’s looking to challenge.” 

“I don’t--” Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This has never come up between us. Jared knows I wouldn’t even want that.” 

“Does he?” Boyd asks. “Forgive me, Stiles, but you don’t have a great track record with communication. And from where Keane stands, he beats Derek in a fight, he shows the voters how strong he is and he frees you from Derek’s legal claim all in one move.” 

“That’s barbaric,” Stiles spits. “I’m not a piece of meat they can just fight over.” He pauses. “And Derek wouldn’t take the challenge anyways. He’d hand Keane my papers.” 

Boyd raises his eyebrows. “You think so?” 

“You said it yourself, Boyd,” Stiles glares at the dark leather in front of him. “If he can keep it together long enough to win re-election he’s going to be VP.”

Boyd pauses for a long time. Then he opens his mouth. “He stayed on my couch for three months after you broke it off with him at the hospital.” Boyd says. “Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t sleep.”

“So, he was with you,” Stiles says.

“Who do you think kept him from going after you when you left for Seattle a month later?” Boyd asks. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles says lowly. “I tried not to think about it. I was just trying to do the smart thing for the first time in my life and move on.” 

“That’s your problem, Stiles,” Boyd says. “You think you’re smarter than everything and everybody. You thought you were smarter than the drugs so you abused the hell out of them. You thought you were smarter than your past, so you ran back into this election even though you knew it meant running back into Derek. And you think you’re smarter than your own instincts so you’re running away from your bite, man.” Stiles glares at him. “Yeah, I know it’s still red.” Boyd says. “Derek told me the whole thing when he got back from the hospital.” 

There’s a long silence as the car circles the block. 

“And now you’re fucking him again,” Boyd says, shaking his head. 

“I don’t want to be,” Stiles says through gritted teeth. 

“No, Stiles,” Boyd says, looking at him. “The problem is you want to be.” 

There’s another long silence. 

“Derek told me about your proposition,” Boyd sighs. “About how if he can get the legislation repealed you’ll stop playing chicken with your own life.” 

“And?” Stiles asks, eyeing Boyd.

“I don’t believe it,” Boyd says frankly. 

“You think I won’t stand by my word,” Stiles challenges. 

“I think you’re an addict.” Boyd says reasonably. “I’ve known enough of them to know quitting risky behavior isn’t that easy.” 

“What was I supposed to do, Boyd?” Stiles sighs. “Stand back and let him run the TTF’s agenda?” 

“I don’t know, Stiles,” Boyd says. “All I know is you almost killed him last time.” He looks the omega square in the face. “And I mean that. I thought you were going to pull him into the grave with you and I’d lose two of my best friends.” 

“He left me,” Stiles grinds out. 

“He was desperate--”

“So he sent his lawyer here to plead his case, is that it?” Stiles asks angrily. 

“Derek doesn’t know I’m here.” Boyd says. “He’d kill me if he knew I was talking to you. But I wanted you to know. What you did to him.” Boyd looks over at Stiles solemnly. “I wanted you to know that I watched him cry himself to sleep for months. I wanted you to know that he really did love you and when you gave up on yourself, you gave up on him, too.” 

“I know what I did,” Stiles grinds this out. 

“Do you?” Boyd asks. 

“I’ve made many mistakes,” Stiles laughs humorlessly. “I know that.” 

Boyd sighs. “What are you going to do now, Stiles?” 

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks, surprised by the question. 

“Look,” Boyd says. “You still love him. So, either you’re going to forgive him and move past this or you’re not. The ball is in your court.” He looks at the omega sideways. “Either way you can’t keep doing this to him. You can’t keep fucking him and hating him. It’s not fair to him or to you.” 

Stiles pauses for a long moment. “I don’t know what to do, Boyd.” He says. He reaches up and pulls off his prosthetic, revealing his crimson scar. 

“Shit,” Boyd says, looking at it. “Has it always been that color?” 

“No,” Stiles admits lowly. “It’s getting brighter.” 

“You can’t keep doing this,” Boyd says. “You know that right?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I know. But I can’t be with him if he’s with Mason, Boyd. I can’t do it.” 

Boyd nods, “I figured as much.” 

“And it’s not fair of me to ask him to give this up,” Stiles says. 

“This isn’t about fair,” Boyd says. “This was never about fair.” 

“It never is,” Stiles says. “And even if he leaves Mason---” Stiles sighs. “What he’s done--” 

“He’s been as crazy as you,” Boyd says. “Has a certain symmetry to it, doesn’t it?” 

Stiles pauses. “I think we’re both bad people.” 

Boyd laughs. “Maybe. But I want you to think about this, Stiles. The ball is in your court, man. We’re at a turning point in this election and how you play it is going to change the next four years.” 

“You can’t think that’s true,” Stiles says. 

“I know it’s true,” Boyd says. “Only you could blow up a whole election. Any other omega would have more sense.” 

“That’s true,” Stiles swallows. He turns to Boyd. “And if I can’t forgive him?” 

Boyd looks back, “Then I guess I’ll be there to pick up the pieces again and it’s going to be a long four years.”


End file.
